Reaped Out Act 2: Sickle Sad World
by pinkminx
Summary: Continues from Reaped Out, Act 1. Now Finished!
1. Chapter 1

**Reaped Out. Act 2: Sickle Sad World**

Chapter 1

**_I don't like it when I say people should die and then they do. I don't want that kind of responsibility._**

_What if want had nothing to do with it and the responsibility was thrust upon you? What if you were given an exact time, date and location of when and where someone was going to die and it was your duty to collect their soul. What then?_

_I'd never given much thought to what happened when you died. Scientifically, I got it. The heart stopped beating, the brain stopped firing synapses; the body shut down and began to rot. Spiritually? I can't say I'd ever given it much thought. Saint Peter at the pearly gates, ready to equip me with a halo and a harp? A blinding white light? Orchestral symphonies? I didn't know what to expect, but never, in my wildest dreams, had I imagined this..._

_My name was Daria Morgendorffer. I was an eighteen year old high school student from Lawndale. Living it up in middle class suburbia. Honestly? It sucked. I wanted out. Out of the small town and its moronic masses, out of the mundanity that was my life. Lucky me, my wish was granted. Note the tense; it's not a mistake that was me, now? Now, I'm something else._

***

Daria stared at the Post-It in her left hand, her right traced the outline of the details written in bold black script.

S. Stack  
Lawndale Indoor Sport and Recreation Center  
10:36 a.m.

The name wasn't familiar and Daria debated if this was a good or a bad thing. The pro, she wasn't taking the soul of someone she knew. The con? She had no idea who this person was and she had little more than fifteen minutes to find them. She entered the sporting center and was immediately engulfed in a gut twisting, foul stench; an incorporation of sweat, leather and something gamey she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She grimaced slightly and pressed on further into the androgenic environment. She passed the dozens of training nets and courts, until she reached the equipment desk in the center of the expansive room.

Daria studied the counter, her eyes rested on a sign out sheet connected to a clipboard and praised her fortunes. The third name on the sheet 'Sam Stack- Squash Court, one hundred tennis balls, one tennis ball machine.'

As Daria studied the sheet a tall, broad shouldered male, whom Daria would have guessed to be about her age, sidled over.

"Hey babe." he crooned as he leant on the counter and ran his free hand through his thick brown hair.

Daria pursed her lips tightly and smiled. "Hi." she said tersely.

"What can I do for you?" he flashed a smile and showcased his dazzling pearly whites; a smile that Daria assumed made all the girls melt.

Daria groaned inwardly and repressed the urge to fire off a strain of sarcastic remarks. "I...ah...I was wondering if I could book some tennis lessons with Sam, Sam Stack?"

"Sure thing, I've got a lesson in five minutes, but I can get your details now." He bent down behind the counter and retrieved a small black book. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

Daria exhaled heavily. "D... Wait, you're Sam?" Daria asked cautiously.

"Yep." He stood straight, stretched out the breast of his shirt and flashed the embroidered monogram.

Daria glanced at her watch, there were eight minutes left. She looked up at Sam and gave a small smile. "I might just watch your next lesson to see if your teaching methods are for me." Daria held out her hand. "I'm Morgan."

Sam took Daria's hand and smiled. "Sam." He replied coolly, unaware Daria had taken his soul.

Daria nodded and walked to the bench seat and waited for the festivities to begin.

***

Artie Glick was running late. His mother had had enough and she had given him an ultimatum. Participate in an activity outside of the house that was unrelated to science fiction or aliens, or she would disconnect the cable, his high speed internet and cancel his subscription to _UFO Weekly_. He had begrudgingly gave in and chosen tennis lessons. The drawback was being taught by the asshole quarterback jock from Oakwood.  
Artie callously pulled his rusty old, lime green Datsun 120 Y coupe into a park and cut the engine. He grabbed his bag and ran into the Sports Center.

Daria watched as Sam busied himself while he waited for his ten-thirty appointment by relocating boxes from one side of the bench to the other. Her mind started to wander as she imagined how Mister Sam Stack was going to die. It alarmed her that she was actually taking pleasure in imagining him being crushed under a weight of a falling basketball hoop, or caught and strangled in a badminton net, hell, even the idea of him choking on a pen lid gave her a morbid thrill.

Daria was pulled out of her reverie as the large front doors swung open and a gangly red head entered. She vaguely recognized him from the pizza place.

Artie approached the equipment desk. "Sorry I'm late." he mumbled, as he passed Sam and skulked to the locker room.

Daria watched as Sam shook his head and placed a box labeled 'Tennis' next to an identical box marked 'Baseball' and followed Artie to the locker room; presumably to tear him a new one for being late.

Daria saw the flash of pale purple as the Graveling bounded across the room. She watched as it pounced upon the boxes on the desk and switched them. It gave an uproarious laugh and disappeared as Sam and Artie returned.

Her curiosity piqued, Daria watched as Sam picked up the box labeled 'Baseball' and led the way to the Plexiglas-cased practice court.

Sam gave the box to Artie. "Put them in the tennis ball machine, then sit outside so you can see me do it properly." he ordered and turned; he had Daria's attention, but not for the reason he expected.

Daria watched curiously as Artie followed the directions and emptied the balls into the machine and turned it on. Her brow furrowed as Artie opened the door to the court and flinched as he saw a blur of lurid purple sweep past him. "Ahhh! Their back." he screamed as he fled the center.

"What?" Daria uttered slowly in disbelief._ 'It's not possible...Is it?'_

Daria's thoughts were interrupted as a grinding mechanical whirl filled the air, she watched as the Graveling kicked the ball machine into top speed and it started to fire the white baseballs at Sam.

It only took two.

The first ball hit him square in the chest and sent him to his knees, the second left a large crater in the right side of his head; the other ninety eight just added insult to injury. A crowd had gathered and watched helplessly as Sam's bludgeoned body was tenderized, by round after round of hard white balls. No one dared enter for fear of having their own body end up in a bloodied heap on the floor.

"Am I... Is that me?"

Daria turned toward the frightened voice, a sympathetic smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. She nodded and began to walk toward the exit and motioned for Sam to follow.

She was beginning to see why the other Reapers reveled in bloody deaths; they were kind of fun, gruesome sure, definitely memorable. There was no way Sam could have an open coffin at his funeral.

"Shit, Tom's funeral."

Daria glanced at her watch; she would make it, just.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

1.

Daria's bare feet slapped hard against the searing hot pavement. Her new body, although seemingly well equipped to run a marathon, struggled to keep a quick pace in the midday heat. Daria slowed and stood under the shade of a large elm on the side of the road, and gained her bearings. There were three blocks to go. She glanced at her watch. She had missed the service and the burial, but if she persevered, she would make it to the Winged Tree Country Club for the wake on time. She groaned and hitched the hem of the knee length black dress she had borrowed from her predecessor, to her mid-thigh and pushed on.

Daria rounded the corner and slowed to a trot as she approached Georgia's red Mustang. Georgia and Mason stood beside it and watched as Daria placed both palms on the side door and leaned heavily against it. She let her head hang free, as she caught her breath. Mason ran a hand through his dark scruffy hair as he studied her. He raised his eyebrows and shot a look toward Georgia, who shrugged in return.

"Are you okay?" Georgia asked warily, she had realized very quickly that Daria had a hair trigger temper and although it usually manifested in a passive aggressive silence, now wasn't the time to set off 'the beast'. Georgia definitely didn't want to look after a disgruntled Daria at a wake, which her former friends and family would be attending.

Daria's mane of dark auburn hair bounced as she nodded. She inhaled deeply and drew herself to full height. The black sandals she was holding slipped from her slackened grip and fell to the ground.

"Bad Reap?" Georgia asked.

"No, but something happened. Something weird." Daria answered cryptically, as she pushed her feet into the shoes.

"Something weird, like... You didn't get the soul? Your Reap missed the appointment?" Georgia queried.

"No, not that... Wait missed the appointment? That happens?" Daria replied, her brow furrowed as she mulled the idea over in her head.

"Yeah, it happens. Sometimes a person will miss the appointment; divine intervention, reaper meddling. Fucked if I know." Georgia shrugged, and saw the look on Daria's face. "Don't get any ideas if you go round purposely interrupting your Reap's life so they miss an appointment, the Gravelings will make your life a fucking nightmare. Trust me. Besides, it fucks with the order of things." Georgia asserted, she sighed. "So what happened?"

Daria shook her head and cleared her mind of the thoughts that had begun to invade. It had never occurred to her that she was able to mess with fate, or whatever, to save a life. She looked up at Georgia. "There was..." Daria started, the sound of stilettos, clacking noisily on the pavement behind them interrupted her. The three Reapers turned to face the approaching girls.

"Wow, I didn't know that hobo chic was in this year." Sandi said pointedly at Mason, as the fashion club walked past and surveyed them. "And I must have missed the memo that said boat neck necklines were in this season." Sandi jeered, as she observed Daria.

Daria looked down at the dress she was wearing; a simple black cotton frock, with short capped sleeves.

"Ah, Sandi?" Stacy started timidly. Sandi turned to Stacy with venom in her eyes. "That dress, it's a Dolce Gabbana." She continued meekly.

Sandi's eyes widened and looked down to survey her own considerably cheaper ensemble. "Well..." She faulted, and then turned her attention back to Daria, her eyes narrowed. "It seems money can't buy you taste." She laughed bitterly. Sounds of agreement were given by Stacy and Tiffany in the form of nervous laughter to appease Sandi. The laughing continued as they walked toward the entrance of the club house.

"What was that about?" Mason asked perplexed.

"Nothing, just mindless talk." Daria replied.

"Who were they anyway?" Georgia looked toward Daria.

"The Fashion Club. The queen-bees of Lawndale High. They're my sister's best friends." Daria said flatly, as she started to walk toward the club. "Come on, let's get this over with."

***

Quinn sulked stubbornly beside her mother, as Helen spoke with the Sloanes.

"Yes, everything's coming along perfectly. Your sources were right on the money with the HR department, they were hiring immigrants for cheap labor."

Quinn shook her head and scowled at her mother,_ 'How dare she speak business at a wake, give the poor family a break.' _She thought bitterly. Her eyes surveyed the room, quite a lot of the Lawndale community had come to give their condolences, or they were just in it for the free alcohol.

Quinn sighed in frustration and turned toward Helen. "Mom..."

"Not now, sweetie." Helen waved a hand dismissively at Quinn, as she continued her discussion.

Quinn folded her arms across her chest and scanned the room again. Her eyes were drawn to the entrance as she spotted Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany as they entered. She exhaled heavily, _'Time to face the music I suppose.' _She thought as she made her way over to the three girls.

"Gee Quinn, you sure are lucky to be out what with your mother grounding you and confiscating your phone." Sandi crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip as she waited for Quinn's response.

"I..." Quinn's eyes were drawn to Stacy, as she waved frantically behind Sandi. Stacy's eyes grew wide as her right hand waved horizontally at her neck; a frantic plea for Quinn to drop it. Quinn inhaled and met Sandi's steely gaze. "I wasn't grounded, and my phone wasn't confiscated." Quinn asserted boldly.

Sandi inhaled sharply through her nose, _'She's actually going to do this? There's no way I'm letting her free, not this easily. I don't need a rogue female that looks like her and who has the impression she can think for herself, roaming the halls of Lawndale.'_ Sandi smiled tersely. "Then it's a shame your battery went dead, and you weren't able to reply to Stacy's messages." She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sandi-" Quinn began.

"I understand that circumstances prevented you from replying, unfortunately I'm going to have to put you on probation. Now that we're all here, let's go and show these Fielding girls what true fashion is. Quinn, now." Sandi commanded.

Quinn's eyes darted toward her mother, the exit and Sandi._ 'This is going to be harder to get out of than I thought. Where's Jane, she said she'd be here; that would really piss Sandi off, blowing her off to talk with someone with such a low social status.'_ Quinn's shoulders slumped as she begrudgingly followed the three girls outside.

***

Daria, Georgia and Mason had followed the Fashion Club into the large hall. A scowl spread across Daria's face as she watched Quinn follow Sandi outside.

"Is that your sister, the red head?" Georgia asked tentatively as she saw Daria's face.

Daria nodded silently and continued to scan the room. Her throat tightened as she saw the memorial against the far wall. A sea of flowers surrounded two large portraits of Tom and Elsie.

"So, if I'm not mistaken, there was an open bar offered?" Mason broke the awkward silence that had settled between them.

Daria glared at him in response, Georgia looked between her two companions and softly patted Daria on the shoulder. "I'll look after him. Make sure he doesn't make a scene, will you be okay on your own?"

"Sure." Daria deadpanned, and returned her eyes to the sea of faces before her.

"Come and find us when you're ready to go," Georgia turned and watched as Mason sidled up to the bar. "We'll be at the bar." She added needlessly, and followed him.

Daria stood still _'What the hell am I doing here? Why did I think this was going to be a good idea?'_ she fretted as she slowly began to circle the room. After she had done a complete rotation she considered giving up; she couldn't see any of the people she had wanted to, and even if she did, there was nothing she could do. She began to walk to where her colleagues were waiting for her, her shoulders slumped and head down. A familiar laugh made its way to her ears and pulled her attention to her mother and the Sloanes, who were talking near the buffet. Daria glanced around quickly, there was no sign of her father. _'Why would mom be here by herself? Sure Tom and I were together for a few months but it's not like our parents were that close.'_

Daria made her way to the buffet, and stood close enough to her mother so she was in earshot, but far enough away that her presence wouldn't be detected.

"Richard was right about you, Helen. I want to thank you for all the effort you've put into this case for us." Angier smiled warmly.

"Oh, Angier, you did all the ground work. Having the human resources department fire eighty percent of its janitorial staff was just a technicality. It's I that should be thankful." Helen shot back.

Daria felt her pulse quicken and her blood begin to boil. Her mother's lack of compassion at her own funeral had been hard, she had put it down to Helen using work as an excuse to delay the inevitable grief, but gushing over work, and brown nosing her clients at Tom's funeral was too much. Daria scoffed loudly and drew the attention of her mother, Kay and Angier who stared at her in bemusement.

"Um, bad shrimp..." she offered nervously as she shirked back into the crowd and made her way over to the small balcony on the other side of the room. She opened the glass doors and breathed a sigh of relief when she found it to be unoccupied.

2.

"Can you believe that Fielding...slut, has the same bag as me?" Sandi asked in disbelief.

"Oh, but your bag matches your outfit so much better than hers." Stacy offered dutifully.

"Muuuuch better." Tiffany chimed in.

"Ahem..." Sandi eyed Quinn, who was scanning the crowd.

"Huh?" Quinn said vaguely.

"Quinn, this is an emergency. I expect to have your full attention." Sandi reprimanded.

"So what, she has the same bag as you, be thankful she's not wearing the same dress. It's hardly an emergency."

"Need I remind you of the Fashion Club code? As president I reserve the right to make any of you swap bags with me, I can't be seen having the same item as someone else, whether it be a bag or a dress or a stupid hair clip." Sandi let out a ragged breath. "Quinn, give me your bag. Now." She held out her hand and waited.

"No. Too bad, this is my purse." Quinn replied. Her patience was beginning to wane.

"No? Quinn, give me the purse." Sandi said impatiently.

"Sandi, I said no. I don't care, swap with one of the other girls if it's that important." Quinn replied.

Sandi huffed and rolled her eyes. "Stacy." Sandi swung her arm around to Stacy, who let out a small whimper and began to empty her own purse on the ground.

Quinn watched in disgust and turned her attention back to the crowd.

Sandi eyed Quinn suspiciously. "Looking for someone?"

"No... I'm, just... admiring some of the bold fashion choices." Quinn replied uneasily.

Sandi scoffed. "Bold isn't the word for it, downright wrong, disastrous even. I mean look at her." Sandi pointed and shook her head, the four girls looked at the short girl Sandi had referred to. The girl would have been no more than fifteen, with a short choppy blond bob. Her dress of choice was a navy blue, off the shoulder, puffy taffeta explosion.

"That's not what I meant by bold. Jesus Sandi, do you have to be so mean? So the girl looks a little, unconventional but she can pull it off. Even if it was bad, aren't we supposed to guide the fashionably challenged people into making better choices, not mocking them behind their backs?"

"Quinn, there's some people that are beyond help, like her for example. There is nothing right with her fashion sense we'd be here all day if we tried to help." Sandi sneered.

"You know what Sandi, that's it, I've had enough. You're nothing but a vapid, self involved, vicious little bitch. You're abusive and manipulative. There's more to life than pointing out peoples short comings." Quinn drew a jagged breath and felt a shot of adrenaline course through her veins. It excited her and scared her equally at the same time.

"Quinn, do you really want to do this?" Sandi voice held a venomous tone. "Your life will be nothing, you will be nothing. I rule that school and it is my decision who is worthy of attention. I hold the power and respect of everyone there, so if you want to see what it will be like going through your senior year as a ghost, keep going." Sandi dared.

"Respect? HA! That's a joke. People don't respect you, they certainly don't like you- they fear you. They're scared of being ostracized for pissing you off. That's why you hold the power."

"I'd rather be feared and powerful than weak and alone, which is exactly where you're headed. You're already on probation."

"Oh give it up Sandi, I didn't have my phone confiscated, and my battery was fine. I deleted your messages without even checking them. I didn't give a shit about your 'emergency fashion meeting'. This is a funeral, show a little respect."

Sandi pursed her lips tightly. Quinn could see the searing anger burning in her eyes. "I expect your resignation tomorrow morning." She hissed.

"Resignation, you want my resignation? Oh I can give it to you right now." Quinn's right hand rose so it was level with Sandi's face, and she extended her middle finger. "This is my resignation, fuck you Sandi. I'm out." Quinn uttered through clenched teeth. She then turned and walked back toward the Club house.

Daria stood against the balcony rail and gazed out over the pristine lawns of the golf course. She had spent the last twenty minutes calming herself. She hadn't expected to see her mother today, and certainly not in lawyer mode. She wasn't surprised, the Sloanes hadn't risen to power by being compassionate and allowing their emotions out. She was stunned out of her stupor by the slam of the door. She turned and found her breath caught in her throat as she came face to face with her sister.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here." Quinn apologized softly, the bold spirit that had embodied her moments before had begun to ebb, as the realization of what had just happened dawned upon her.

"Ah, no problem." Daria managed and turned to leave. Her mind reeled she hadn't expected to be given such a direct opportunity to speak with anyone from her past life, and now that it had come, she had no idea what to say or do.

Quinn turned and saw Daria begin to leave. "You don't have to go."

Daria turned and slowly sat at one of the tables, and watched as Quinn began to pace. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just..." She shook her head. "I'd rather not talk about it. There's too much to dump on you." She gave a small smile and sat at the table with Daria. "You look familiar, do I know you?"

Daria stiffened slightly. "Ah I don't think so. I'm new to town." She said nervously.

Quinn leaned forward and studied Daria's face. "No I... Oh, you were in the car the other day, at the lights. You were with that other girl in the Mustang." Quinn said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I remember. Sorry about that."

"Hey it's fine; it's my mom's fault. She knows I can't drive a stick, now the Lexus I can drive. Like the time..." Quinn drifted off, a sorrowful smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Are you okay?" Daria knew Quinn was remembering the exact same thing as her. The road trip they had taken to get the Lane's out of Jail.

"Yeah, just... nothing, it's fine. I'm Quinn by the way." She held her hand out.

Daria shook it. "Morgan." She replied, as she let go.

"So you're new to town. Do you know many people?"

"No, a few but not that many."

"I have a couple of friends I think you'd really get along with. They're here today, you should meet them." Quinn said as she stood and straightened her dress. _'If only I could actually find them, Jane said she'd come.'  
_  
Daria's mind flashed to the three Fashion Club members and felt her insides recoil. "Maybe another time, I really should be going. I have to find my friends." Daria replied quickly as she stood and made her way to the doors. "Bye Quinn."

"See ya round, Morgan." Quinn replied quietly as she watched the girl leave.

3.

Daria scanned the room to assure herself there would be no more surprise appearances from the ghosts of her past and quickly filtered her way through to crowd to the bar. Physically, her body had moved from point A to point B, but her mind remained with her sister. She not only recalled their brief encounter, but replayed the sisterly moments they had once shared, the good and the bad. She was guilt-stricken as she realized the bad moments far surpassed the good; she hadn't wanted it that way. She hadn't resolved upon Quinn's arrival to be a constant reminder that the world wasn't the big, shiny, opportunistic thing Quinn perceived it to be. Daria hadn't been pessimistic, she had just tried to prepare Quinn for the real world.

As she recalled their chance meeting, Daria realized that something had changed within Quinn; it was reflected in her eyes. The bright childlike naivety that had once burnt so strongly seemed diminished. Had her death extinguished a fragile trait Quinn had been able to keep through to her teens? Daria could only hope something good would rise from the ashes.

Her face bore a sullen scowl as Daria noticed the swagger in Georgia's gait, as she retreated to the ladies room. Daria had expected one of her companions to imbibe the free booze, but she hadn't expected it to be Georgia. She approached Mason cautiously.

"Is she drunk?" Daria asked incredulously.

Mason turned to face Daria. "Yeah."

"I thought it was you we had to babysit. What's up with her?" Daria said caustically.

"Georgie had a bad experience with a rich kid, started at a country club. I guess she's still pissed." Mason answered with a shrug.

"Well is she ready to go? I need to get out of here, I don't know what I was thinking; it was a mistake coming here." Daria said ruefully.

"Yeah, it'll take some coaxing though; she's in one hell of a mood."

"Whatever, I'll be waiting out the front." Daria said with a dismissive wave, and walked off before Mason had a chance to reply.

***

Jane stood on the front steps of the country club. The large white building loomed in front of her though she had yet to build up the courage to enter. The funeral and burial had been hard, but she had managed. Attending the wake was sure to be more of a struggle, she would have to communicate to other attendees as they recalled the 'better times'. She groaned as she sat on the top step and buried her head in her hands.

Daria stormed through the lobby and out onto the front terrace. The anger rose like bile in her stomach.

"Get a grip Morgand-" Daria spotted Jane, as Jane's head whipped around to face her. "d...on't talk to yourself in public people will think you're crazy... Hi." Daria continued uneasily.

"Yo." Jane replied, her eyebrows rose as she studied Daria.

"Sorry, I don't usually..."

"Hey, we all have a bit of crazy in us, besides my best friend does... did, the same thing." Jane replied with a mournful smile. Daria felt a sharp pang of guilt grip her insides.

"Oh, I guess it's somewhat healthy. I suppose it only constitutes as madness when the voices actually respond and tell you to do things."

"And even then it's only crazy when the demands are unreasonable." Jane replied with a smile.

"Yeah like genocide."

"Unless it's to eradicate the football jocks or bimbo cheerleaders."

"Or sex crazed pervs'."

"Or idiotic teens, obsessed with fashion, looks, popularity and beauty."

"Just the idiotic in general." Daria replied with a smile. "On the bright side, after you're committed to the criminally insane section of your local asylum, for slaughtering eighty five percent of earth's population, you'll still have someone to talk to."

Jane smiled warmly and studied Daria. "You have a weird sense of humor, you know that? I'm Jane." She held her hand out.

Daria took it, she was glad she was shaking someone's hand without having to take their soul. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but she didn't care; this was the first time today that anything felt normal. She had missed the banter with Jane. "Morgan." Daria replied.

***

Quinn stood on the side balcony, her mind torn. She had just bitten the hand that fed her. Without the safety net of the Fashion Club she was extremely vulnerable. She turned as she heard the door open.

"Quinn, oh my God! There you are. Sandi is so mad. Why did you do that?" Stacy asked her speech rapid.

"I...I just did." Quinn replied.

"If you apologize to her now, you can get back in, on probation of course. Please Quinn?" Stacy's eyes grew wide as she pleaded with her excommunicated friend.

"I'm not apologizing for anything, Stacy." Quinn replied sternly.

"But Quinn, I need you there." Stacy said softly.

"If Sandi scares you that much, quit. We can be free of her tyranny together."

"I...I can't. I don't... she doesn't... I've got a good thing going there. I just don't want to see you end up like your cousin, well, your sister. Not the dead part, well, I'm not trying to say that I want you dead, not at all. I certainly want to see you live 'til you're old and wrinkly. Oh, not saying you will be wrinkly..."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Get to the point Stacy."

"Oh, right. Well, what I mean is, I don't want to see you end up an outcast; your hair is way to pretty." Stacy met Quinn's perplexed gaze with a hopeful smile.

"Jeez, if you don't want to see me as social pariah, don't treat me like one." Quinn said finally as she returned inside, a nonplussed frown etched into Stacy's face as she pondered Quinn's words.

Quinn made a beeline for the exit, her stilettos clacked noisily as she passed through the lobby. She let out a frustrated cry. She stepped out onto the front terrace and began to mumble incoherently as she paced.

Daria and Jane turned to watch Quinn.

"Must run in the family." Jane said with a smile. "Yo, Princess Grace. What's up?" she called.

Quinn turned, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink at the realization she wasn't alone. "Oh Jane, and Morgan right?" Daria gave a small nod. Quinn approached them and sat to Jane's right. "Oh Jane, I've either done the smartest or possibly dumbest thing I have ever done."

"You didn't match plaid with stripes did you?" Jane said lightly.

"Ha ha, I'm serious. I quit the Fashion Club, rather theatrically."

Jane raised her eyebrows; she was impressed. "I'm sure you can mend the..."

"I flipped Sandi off and called her a vapid, self involved, vicious bitch, among other things. The strangest thing is I'm not sure I want to apologize."

Daria stared at Quinn she was speechless. She had never though Quinn would have the guts to stand up to Sandi. She valued her own popularity too much. The three girls sat in a solemn silence as they digested the new information. They were pulled out of the respective reveries as the sounds of a fourth set of footsteps echoed through the lobby.

"Oh, there you are D..." Mason stopped at the threshold of the large building and saw the three young women sitting before him. "Darlin', Morgan? I need some help with Georgie. Do you mind?"

Daria sighed and stood. She turned to her 'new' friends and bid them farewell as she followed Mason.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"How can she be so drunk? You told me that Reapers didn't feel the effects of drugs or alcohol." Daria panted and released Georgia's deadweight as they reached the car.

Mason scoffed as he guided Georgia to the passenger side and hoisted her into the seat. He shook his head as he stood and stretched his back. "Nah, we just need a little more to feel anything. The other night when we were at the bar you had what, five or six drinks? The most you got was a light buzz, right?"

Daria nodded and folded her arms loosely across her chest.

"If a normal person, a mortal, drank that much their intoxication level would be pretty bloody high, and they'd be drunk."

Daria wrinkled her nose as she observed Georgia who was slumped in her seat. "How much did she drink to get like that?"

Mason laughed. "She decided to chase a bottle of Everclear with a bottle of Tequila."

"Jesus, we were only there for an hour, how did she get that much to drink?"

"Well the waiter just kept filling the glass and she just kept knockin' them back."

A short blast of a police siren caught Daria and Mason's attention as a squad car approached. Mason turned to Daria. "I was home all last night okay?" He asked in a worried tone.

"Mason... What did you do?" Daria rolled her eyes, but before Mason had a chance to answer the police car pulled up beside the Mustang.

Roxy hung her left elbow out of the car window as she leaned out, her right pulled her _Rayban_'s down her nose. Her dark brown eyes peered over the silver rims as she surveyed her colleagues. "What's going on? Mason..."

"Nothing, Roxy my dear," His voice cracked as he shifted his weight nervously. "What do we owe the pleasure, Reaper business or are you on the beat?"

Roxy raised her eyebrows. "Reaper business. You look guilty Mason, did you behave yourself today?"

Mason nodded and pointed to Georgia. "I was very well behaved, Georgie on the other hand..."

Roxy shook her head and pushed her sunglasses back on. "Come on. Rube wants us at the Waffle House, pronto."

***

Daria stared blankly at the three Post-Its in front of her as she listened to the protests of the other Reapers.

"Five…Five? Why do I get five and Daria and Georgia only get three?" Roxy said.

"Affirmative action?" Daria offered.

"Affirmative action my ass," Roxy scoffed. "So what's the deal, why the last minute mass-reap. Aren't these things usually known a little sooner?"

"Last minute change of plans, it was originally planned for the next county over." Rube replied.

"And now?"

"And now it's not." Rube smiled tersely at Roxy and bit into a piece of extra-crispy bacon.

"Rube, two of these hits are at a different location and a different time. I've already had one reap today," Daria started.

"Well now the tally will stand at four," Rube replied.

"Why can't they just take the day off, ask them to cut us some slack, " Georgia said as she lifted her head off the table.

"Sure, why not. I'll just give them a call on the reaper hotline and request some personal leave because you've already had a big day and you think you deserve the rest of it off,"

"Really, no fooling? Gee, that'd be super swell Rube," Daria replied. Her sarcastic words were delivered in perfect monotone.

"Can't you give an answer that's not steeped in sarcasm?" Rube sighed.

"Can't you?"

Roxy smirked at Daria. "You know, I'm beginning to really like you." she chuckled.

"Well seeing as Georgia here isn't in the best state to drive, you can explore this budding friendship when you drive these three to the reap location," Rube smiled.

"Shotgun." Mason piped up.

"No. Damn it Rube, let Daria drive the 'stang."

"Sorry. I feel this will be an excellent team building exercise. At the very least it'll teach you all to keep your mouths shut and do your jobs without fuss. Now go."

***

Daria watched as the scenery morphed from manicured lawns and pristine houses of Lawndale, to the dense forests that boarded the town.

She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard of the squad car that was almost completely hidden by an array of police paraphernalia. It was only two in the afternoon and this one day had felt like a week.

"Roxy can you put the siren on, just once? Pleeeeaaasssee?" Mason drew out the word as he tapped at the metal grate that separated the interior.

"No, I'm not going to ask you to shut your mouth again. I'm not in the fucking mood, Mason. My boss has been riding me all morning,"

"You wish he was riding you all morning," Mason scoffed.

His laughter was cut short as Roxy slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a callous stop. She turned slowly and glared at Mason in the back seat, causing him to shrink back.

"Get out," Roxy said sternly.

"Roxy..."Mason pleaded.

"Mason I've had enough of your incessant noise,"

"But, we're in the middle of fucking nowhere. How am I supposed to get the reap site?" he asked as he leaned forward.

"I don't care; you can either get out or shut up."

Mason uttered an incoherent apology and slumped back into his seat.

"Just give me five minutes of silence," Roxy said as she turned and started the car again. "I have the mother of all headaches and you're not helping."

Mason perked. "I _can_ help with that," he said as he rummaged through his pockets and withdrew several prescription medication bottles. "I have _Codeine_, _Oxycodone_, _Hydrocodone_, _Diamorphine_, _Pethidin_e_,__ Tylenol, Diazepam_." he shook each bottle as he announced their names and grinned at Roxy through the rear view mirror.

"Mason I know this is a big favor, but I just need you to shut the fuck up." Roxy said finally as she sped up and the three other occupants of the car were forced back into their seats.

***

Daria let out a small groan as they arrived at their destination. Upon receiving her Post-Its she had an inkling as to where they were going. Those suspicions were confirmed as the battered wooden sign came into view sporting the words 'Welcome to Camp Grizzly'. The car came to a stop and the four reapers exited and made their way to the crowd that had congregated around the mess-hall.

The camp coordinator, Mr. Potts, stood on the top step and spoke into a megaphone as he addressed the crowd. "Welcome campers to the very special Camp Grizzly carnival. I thank you all for being so accommodating to the change of venue, I know a lot of you have travelled far and I speak on behalf of all Camp Grizzly staff, that we appreciate your efforts. Now without further ado, will the following campers please follow me; you will be known as Team Alpha."

The four reapers stood on the outside of the group, Daria was careful to keep as much distance between herself and the campers as possible. She listened as the names were called and glanced at her assignments,_ S. Stevens, 3:30pm, C. Andrews 3:35pm, T. Andrews 3:35pm _none of the names that she had were called. The 'alpha' team appeared to be the ill-fated group, as Daria watched the other three nod and crane their necks to get a better look at their reaps.

Once the teams were called Daria watched Roxy, Georgia and Mason introduce themselves and made up a story in an effort to collect the souls without raising suspicion. There were twenty minutes left and twenty-five until her next assignment, and still no sign on S. Stevens. Daria wandered around the clearing and listened in on conversations hoping that the name would be brought up.

Five minutes later and two full rotations of the clearing, Daria had found an S. Simons, a B. Stevenson, and an A. Stephan, but no S. Stevens. She growled quietly in frustration and kicked a small pine cone at her feet. It rolled across the ground and came to a stop under the yellow school bus, inches from two sets of feet. Daria's brow furrowed as she approached the bus _'There wasn't anyone here before, hopefully this will be the one I'm looking for, and we can get out of this godforsaken hell hole. I have more than enough camping memories to last me a lifetime.'_

She rounded the side of the bus quietly and listened in on the discussion the two men were having, one of the men was Mr. Potts, the other, was Skip; the big man on camp. She cringed as the first few bars of the 'Camp Grizzly' song floated through her head. She hoped against hope that Skip's last name was Stevens, anyone that forced that God-awful song upon anyone deserved to die.

"Skip, pull yourself together. The carnival is still going ahead as planned," Mr Potts said in a frustrated tone.

"But, Mr. P, we can't hold the annual camp carnival at 'Camp Cougar'. It's against the rules; we won last year so we get to host it." Skip whined.

"Skip, there are no rules when it comes to the location, Camp Grizzly isn't fit to host it this year- the swimming hole is full of noxious algae." Mr. Potts replied wearily.

"But, but," Skip stammered.

"Dammit, Skip Stevens are you going to drive this bus with the campers to Camp Cougar or not?"

"Yes-sir" Skip replied meekly.

"Good, we leave in five."

Daria watched Mr. Potts retreat to the mess-hall. She tentatively approached Skip, who had sunk to the ground and put a hand on his shoulder releasing his soul.

"I'll do it; I'll be fine, just give me a moment." Skip sobbed without looking up.

Daria shook her head and went to find the rest of her gang.

***

Daria stood at a crossroad on Route 101, her next reap site. Besides Roxy's squad car parked a hundred feet away, no other vehicles or signs of life were visible. The group had surmised that Daria's reaps would be the cause of the inevitable crash that would take the lives of the passengers aboard the 'Camp Grizzly' bus. She heard the faint rattle of an old truck engine as it struggled up the hill to her right; the top of the truck came into view as it reached the summit and continued down the other side, directly toward her. A similar grunt of a bus engine sounded out as the yellow bus carrying the kids rounded the corner to her left, Daria took a few steps back off the road and up the slight incline of the embankment and waited for the festivities to occur.

She heard the slight rustle of leaves and turned to see Roxy approach her. A though struck Daria suddenly.

"What happens if I can't get the soul before the crash? I mean there's no way I can't get the souls of the two people in the truck."

Roxy shrugged. "You get it after; sometimes you can't get the soul before the death."

"What does that mean?"

"They feel the pain of the death, it's not ideal but they are usually grateful for the cessation of pain that they are pretty accepting of their death."

"Oh." Daria said as she returned her gaze to the road and the distance between the two vehicles that was rapidly reducing. The truck had picked up a considerable amount of speed as it flew down the hill. Daria closed her eyes as she braced herself for the crash; the electric anticipation that hung in the air intensified as the noisy engines grew louder.

The heavy blast of wind that sent Daria falling back was the first sign they had been wrong. Daria opened her eyes to see the truck speed down the road and around the corner. The bus had passed unperturbed. Daria looked over to Roxy her face mirrored the uncertainty that she felt.

"Wha..."

Daria was cut off by a screech of tires and both women watched as the bus flew over the bottom side of the embankment and slide on its roof into the undergrowth. Daria looked up the road to see a frightened deer frozen in shock in the middle of the road. She took out the two Post-It notes and scanned them; there were no other people around.

Roxy turned to Daria. "I'll go and get the bus, don't worry you still have forty-five seconds left." She called as she began to cross the road.

Daria began to walk toward the deer that seemed to have calmed slightly, it eyed Daria cautiously and looked around. Daria looked at her watch there were thirty seconds left, and still no sign of life. The deer stiffened and turned. It ran back into the tree line and Daria turned to look into the bushes and found the source of the young deer's fretting; a large buck stood on the side of the road, its antlers lowered and it snorted slightly as it eyed Daria.

'Oh shit' Daria thought.

A rustling behind her drew the male deer's attention from her, in time to see two naked figures prance from the undergrowth.

"The trees auras are talking to me, we must follow the emerald path to the second watchtower to find the physical and spiritual enlightenment, we've been searching for." the male rambled.

Daria's hands brushed the bare skin of the naked male and female as they passed. She saw the pupils of their eyes were deep onyx pools. The large deer growled as it began to charge toward the couple, Daria dived out of the road just in time to see the couple pinned to the tree as the deer mauled them, its expansive antlers trapping them.

The screams finally died and the area fell silent once again, the souls appeared to have move on almost instantaneously. Daria wearily returned to the squad car as Roxy started it up and drove them home.

***

Daria slumped into the soft leather recliner in the living room and flicked the television on.

_"I'm here at The Lawndale Mall, where the protesting of the __centers__ cleaning staff over the loss of eighty percent of its workers is entering its second day..."  
_  
click

_"This is Lyle Wallister with WRAM-19 news at the scene of another grizzly road accident that has claimed the lives of fourteen young Lawndalians..."_

click

_"...Initial toxicology reports have determined a high level of a psycho-tropic drug, found mainly in a rare species of berries growing near the site of the mauling..."_

click  
_  
"So tell us Artie, you claim you've had contact with the extra terrestrials."_

"That's right, Alice. They contacted me while I slept; they gave me instruction to...."

"Jesus, Daria. I thought you were smart enough to stay away from this garbage." Georgia scoffed as she sat on the couch opposite Daria.

"That's the guy from this morning." Daria pointed to the screen where the _Sick Sad World_ interviewer was speaking to Artie. She looked at Georgia who returned a blank stare. "This morning at the reap? The guy at the sports center? I said something weird happened. He, Artie, saw a Graveling."

Georgia shrugged. "And?"

"And? He saw a Graveling."

"It happens, not often but it's not unusual, most of the time they're only alive to talk about it for a short time."

"He's on TV, what if someone believes him?"

"Pfft. Daria, look at him. He's a regular on the show. Who is going to believe him?"

"Hmmm."  
_  
"I had the idea after witnessing their actions this morning at the sports center, an effort to appease these purple death bringers."  
_  
"Besides, would you believe him?"

"God no." Daria said as she shook her head.

"Well, there you go." Georgia smiled.  
_  
"Vigilante venison ridding the forests of narcotized naturists, next on Sick, Sad World."_

Daria groaned and threw the remote control at Georgia and bid her goodnight as she stood and walked toward her room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Quinn squinted through the blaring light that streamed across her face. Slowly her sleepy brain registered her mother's presence and she realized it had been Helen that had opened the heavy curtains to let the offensive morning sun into the room.

"...Spend all day in bed, I expect you downstairs for breakfast in two minutes," Helen crossed the room and pulled Quinn's duvet from the bed. "If my day has to be interrupted so does yours."

Quinn groaned groggily in response and curled away from her mother.

"UP, NOW!" Helen asserted as she left.

Quinn stood and looked around the room for her dressing gown, found it then slowly made her way to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry if I am impeding on your precious work schedule, but I think the health of our family is more important than the Sloanes." Quinn heard her father's voice as she reached the first landing on the staircase.

_'It's not going to be a good day,'_ she paused while she waited for her mother's response.

"Jake, you know how important that case is to my career. Couldn't you have arranged the appointment for a later date?" Helen said in a frustrated tone.

Quinn's head tilted up to the ceiling. _'Take me now, let the earth part and swallow me whole.'_

"Quinn, down here now. Your father has arranged a _family outing_." Helen called.

A moment passed and Quinn surmised the ground was not going to swallow her and she was in fact going to have to spend the morning with her disgruntled parents. Quickly she crossed the living room and entered the kitchen.

"About time, hurry up and eat your breakfast." Helen said, her tone had softened somewhat but it was quite obvious that where ever they were going, Helen didn't want to be.

"What's so important that we all had to get up at six a.m?" Quinn asked as she approached the coffee machine and poured a cup.

Helen eyed her youngest daughter with suspicion. "Your father has arranged for us to meet with a psychologist that deals with families that have experienced loss...Quinn why are you drinking coffee, isn't it against the Fashion Club's bylaws?"

Quinn sat and took a large mouthful; over the past week whilst hanging out with Jane she had come to appreciate the taste. "It doesn't matter." she replied quietly as she reached for a copy of _Waif_.

Helen and Jake's featured softened as they looked at each other and exchanged concerned glances. "Quinn honey, what's up?" Jake feigned an upbeat manner as he studied Quinn.

"Nothing. How long do I have, I need to wash my hair before we go anywhere."

Jake's brow furrowed as he exhaled heavily then glanced at Helen. "An hour."

"'K, I better get ready." Quinn replied quietly and left the kitchen.

As she padded through the living room she heard the hushed whispers of her squabbling parents.

"_That's_ why we need to go, haven't you noticed anything?" Jake said.

"Jake, that's normal. She's a teenager."

"Jeez Helen, is it hard?"

"Is what hard?" Helen's voice had risen to a normal speaking level.

"Convincing yourself there isn't a problem, being so ignorant to your family's emotional state that you think this behavior is normal."

Quinn shook her head and ascended the stairs. Helen and Jake's verbal battle was cut short by the reverberating shudder of the bathroom door.

***

The loud slam of the passenger car door pulled Quinn back from the brink of her daydreams.

"That's really mature Jake. Jumping out of the car in the middle of traffic," Helen yelled.

"Mom, he can't hear you," Quinn said quietly as she watched her father walk across the intersection, onto the footpath and continue in the opposite direction.

"He should have done it when the car was moving instead of when we were stopped at a traffic light, could have saved me a whole lot of trouble. Honestly what did he-" Helen started, her rant was cut short by the ringing of her cell-phone.

Quinn shook her head and turned her attention to Helen and watched as she located her phone.

"Hello, Helen Morgendorffer... Richard, Hi... Of course you weren't, he at least had the decency to book the appointment before hours... I'll be right in... No, no problem at all... Alright then, I'll be there soon."

Helen put the car into gear and began to drive. "Quinn honey, I have to go into work. Can I drop you at home? Just remember you start your new job this evening."

"Sure." Quinn shrugged and rested her head against the window.

As she let the blur of passing scenery dull her mind she let it wander back to the therapy session. It had been the longest hour of her life, Mr O'Neil's English classes notwithstanding. The councillor had been useless, although to give her her due, she was used to dealing with adults and Helen and Jake had acted like a couple of children...

***

The three Morgendorffers were seated in a moderately sized room with a minimalist modern decor. They sat side-by-side in surprisingly comfortable slick leather chairs, in front of a large glass desk that housed very few personal effects; the large computer chair on the opposite side was empty.

To Quinn's left, Helen tapped her foot on the cream carpet. A dull thump echoed through the office each time her sole connected with the ground. "Honestly Jake, who on earth recommended this doctor? You could have at least found someone that was punctual," Helen sighed.

Quinn glanced to her right and saw Jake's knuckles turn white as he gripped the arm rests of the chair. "She is a client and we're early Helen, Dr. Worthington isn't late."

As if on cue the office door swung open and a short middle-aged woman entered the room. "Jake, Helen and you must be Quinn. Hi I'm Dr. Worthington, but you can call me Sally," she smiled warmly as she took her seat. "Now, you're here for some family grievance counselling, to help you deal with the death of..." she flicked through the top few sheets of a manila folder. "Daria, who has passed recently."

"Thanks right." Jake replied.

"It takes a lot to admit that you need help, most men don't admit they find it difficult to cope with grief. Most have to be dragged in here by their wives," Sally smiled and paused; her attempt at a joke had fallen flat. "Okay then, what this initial session will deal with is me getting to know each of you and how you work as a family. Also the ways in which you have been coping with the loss of your loved one,"

"She's not_ lost_, we didn't misplace her. We're not going to find her under the bed or behind the sofa- she's dead." Quinn scoffed.

Sally smiled and looked down at the file. She retrieved a pen from one of her drawers and scribbled a note on the paper. _'Quinn- Sarcasm'_

"Of course not Quinn, I just need to know the way you all deal with grief so I have a better understanding of how to help you. Now have you found yourself acting differently, doing or saying things you normally wouldn't?"

"I quit the fashion club." she shrugged.

"You what, when was this?" Helen asked.

"At Tom's funeral."

"The Fashion Club? What's this?" Sally clasped her fingers together and looked at Quinn.

"A club from school," Quinn answered.

"They were your friends?"

"Yeah, I guess," Quinn replied.

"So you actively shut yourself off from your friends so they didn't have a chance to leave you." Sally stated and wrote on the paper again.

"No. I quit because Daria's death made me realise there's more important things in life,"

"Things more important than friends?" Sally interjected.

"NO," Quinn inhaled deeply. "Listen, these girls weren't, aren't nice people. They bring out the worst in me,"

"Looking at your file, these girls seemed to be good for you. You're quite popular, you have an impressive amount of credits from the extracurricular activities this club is involved in, and your test scores are good, not in the same ball park as your sister,"

"That's the thing, I could be so much better at school than I am, they aren't good for me. I disowned my sister on a daily basis to fit in with them..."

"Honey, why didn't you tell me you quit the Fashion Club?" Helen said.

"How could I? I never had a chance. You were that busy brown nosing Mr. Sloane I'm surprise you didn't walk away with a trail of his excrement down your face."

The doctor glanced down at her previous note and underlined 'sarcasm' several times.

"Honey, you knew I was talking business-"

"You're always talking business; you haven't stopped working since the day we found out about Daria. Helen you have to take a break and realise that we need you here- with us." Jake turned to Helen.

"I don't need to take a break, I'm fine. I've dealt with Daria's passing and now I'm doing my part for the family- who do you think has been earning the money to pay for this stupid appointment? Your bereavement leave ran out two weeks ago Jake, are you planning on returning to work?" as Helen spoke her voice began to rise above a socially acceptable level.

"Helen, we all--" Sally begun.

"You see, no compassion or empathy," Jake spoke to Sally. He stood and pointed at Helen. "You're an emotionally flaccid husk of the woman I once knew. What happened to the woman who dreamt of working toward a better future, righting the wrongs of the nation's leaders? That's the woman I fell in love with, not this empty corporate shell."

"Jake," Sally cautioned.

"I grew up Jake. We can't all live in the past, blaming all of our short comings on others," Helen shot back as she stood and matched Jake's stance.

"You didn't grow up you sold out." Jake replied bitterly.

"Helen Jake, this isn't how..." Sally began and quickly realised her words were going unheeded as the couple continued to exchange nasty words.

Quinn leaned forward in her seat closer to Sally. "Do you have any magazines like _Waif_? I'd get comfortable if I were you, they can go on like this for hours."

Sally ran her fingers through her shoulder-length red hair and opened and closed her mouth as she tried to reply but was cut off before she found her voice.

"I want a DIVORCE!" Jake yelled.

Helen clutched her chest as an expression of shock flashed quickly across her face. It was replaced soon after by one of fury. "Divorce? FINE, I'll give you a divorce- you better get yourself a damned good lawyer 'cause I'm going to take you for everything your worth!" she replied triumphantly.

"Helen, Jake." Sally yelled. "This is not the time to do this; you don't have to resort to such drastic measures."

"Oh this is the perfect time for this, things have been bad for a long time. I'm just sorry it took Daria's death for them to realise it," Quinn replied as she stood and walked to the door. "I'll be in the car when you're done."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As the family's red SUV pulled up outside the Morgendorffer residence, Quinn silently hopped out and began to walk toward the house. She heard Helen's muffled beckoning and returned to the driver's side door. She watched as her stern reflection gave way to her mother's face.

"Quinn..." Helen began cautiously.

"What?" Quinn said insolently as she folded her arms protectively across her chest.

"Honey I know this has been tough on you, but your father and I..."

"Is there something you wanted? I'm not in the mood for any heart-to-hearts right at this moment." Her words were marred with contempt.

Helen looked at her youngest daughter and inhaled sharply through her nose. "This isn't your fault sweetie, it..."

"Of course it isn't my fault- _it's yours_." Quinn interjected.

"Quinn, I... After you left the doctor's office, your father and I spoke to Doctor Sally and we decided that you would benefit from further grief counseling,"

"Me?" She said incredulously.

"Yes you. You've been acting out of sorts. Quitting the Fashion Club? I thought those girls were your friends, that club was everything to you. We think that you may be stuck at a certain phase of grieving,"

"I think I'm the only one in this family that has _progressed_ through the stages of grief. Were you planning on cleaning Daria's room and sorting through her things anytime soon?"

"I... I had planned to put some time away this weekend,"

"Well, it's Friday now,"

"Well, the case..."

"Jesus Mom, you haven't even been in her room have you? I've already done it. I cleaned through Daria's things almost a month ago while you were busy with work and Dad was, was, God I don't know, lying on the sofa." Quinn's voice had risen slightly and her breath now uneven. She eyed Helen and took a deep breath as she regained control of herself.

Helen paused and gave a sad smile. "Are you going to be okay to get yourself to work? I doubt your father will be in the right mind frame to drive you."

Quinn nodded, she had already guessed Jake would be reacquainting himself with his old friend _'Johnny'_ or _'Jack' _and would be too drunk to drive by the time six PM rolled around. "I'll walk." she said stiffly and turned to go.

"Quinn, wait. Here's fifty dollars, it should cover a cab ride to and from work, I'll be home late." Helen reached into her purse and pulled out a fresh bill.

Quinn raised her eyebrows at Helen's outstretched hand, her arms remained still.

"Fine, here's the gold card you can go shopping for the day. I just raised the limit, but don't go overboard," she added the plastic card to the bill and shook her hand slightly.

Quinn sighed as she took the offerings. "At least your parenting methods haven't been affected by the recent events." she said under her breath.

"What was that?" Helen asked as she eyed Quinn.

Quinn rolled her eyes, then matched Helen's gaze and inhaled deeply. "I said _'At least your parenting methods haven't been affected by the recent events.'_" Quinn studied Helen's face; her eyebrows rose slightly as she waited for Quinn to continue. "You just throw money at me when you feel guilty that you haven't been attentive enough. I'm not complaining- you're a great mother. I'm sure I'll look back in fondness of the semi-neglect parenting style that you've adopted. I only hope my children will feel this loved." Quinn dared a smirk at Helen as she finished.

Helen's brow furrowed as she drew her face into a concerned scowl and studied her youngest daughter. "Quinn... Honey, why are you being so spiteful and apathetic? This isn't you, it's..."

"Daria?"

"Daria was never this spiteful."

"Maybe you weren't catching the subtle barbs in her words."

An electric charge grew in the dead air as both Morgendorffer women eyed each other. "I think you need to have a good look at who you're becoming, because I guarantee it's not someone you are going to be happy with," Helen said quietly.

"How would you know who I am, or who I want to be? This is the longest conversation we've had since she died." Quinn's temper flared.

Helen sighed and gave one last fleeting glance toward Quinn before she started the car again. "Good luck at work," she said tersely as she reversed out of the drive.

***

Quinn stormed through the front door, slammed it shut behind her and ran up the stairs taking two at a time. She reached the top landing and continued down the hall to her room, entering in a vicious state of fury. Grabbing the handle, she pushed the door hard against the frame in three successive slams and let out a frustrated cry as she let her forehead rest against the cool timber. The sound of her heartbeat thudded in her ears as it drove her boiling blood through her body.

In a bid to calm herself Quinn took a few deep breaths then opened the door and made her way to the bathroom. As she crossed the hall a stream of light that flooded from Daria's door into the hall caught her eye. The door had been shut since the day Quinn had sorted through Daria's things; she had been the last and only person to enter it since the wake.

Quinn took a hesitant step toward Daria's room and looked down the hall. "Daddy?" she called timidly. "Are you here?" she paused momentarily as she waited for a response, a few seconds passed and none was given so she crept quietly toward the door.

There was no one there, not that she had expected there to be; the door must have been unlatched and the enthused force she had used to slam her own door had caused Daria's to blow open. As she took the handle and began to pull the door shut, Daria's open closet caught her attention.

Tentatively, she entered Daria's eerily silent room, walked over to the closet and pulled the doors open. The action caused Daria's four identical outfits to sway, after years of saying she would, Quinn didn't have the heart to throw them out. Her hand ran over them and selected one at random. She held it against her and let her fingers run over the folds of the dark green lapels of the jacket, down the worn, tarnished zipper to the soft satin inner. She drew a jagged breath, put it back in its place, shut the door, then turned and began to walk around the room. Her fingers brushed across the top of Daria's bare desk, danced over the grey padding of the walls and strummed the black metal sawn-off bars on the window before finally coming to a rest on the makeshift bedside table, a pile of novels.

Bending down, she retrieved the top book from the pile and sat on Daria's bed. She affectionately stroked the worn hard-cover and let her fingers trace the outline of the title '_Blood Meridian_'. She scooted back against the corner of the bed and nestled into the thick padding of the walls as she opened the book, splaying the pages through her fingers. A choked sigh escaped her lips when a small yellowed Polaroid fell out. She picked it up and studied it. The photo had gone missing years before from the family album. It was of Daria and herself as children and it had been taken during a rare family holiday to the beach.

The warm sting of tears overcame her. She shut her eyes and allowed a fat droplet to breach the levee of her lashes.

"I'm so sorry Daria, it was all my fault." she sobbed. "If I hadn't suggested an expo for a fundraiser, if I hadn't let the choreographer place Stacy before Sandi, if I hadn't let Sandi talk me into asking the 'J's' to set up the props... You'd still be here and God, how much I need you right now." She smiled mournfully at the photo, the details of the two faces blurred as the tears flowed freely. "I can't handle Mom and Dad on my own, not now. Not so soon after..." Quinn let out a ragged breath. "I need you to tell me to stop being so emotional, things will work out one way or another...I'm just not strong enough to do this alone." her voice cracked as the weeping took over.

She glanced around the still room; the only sounds were her stifled sobs. She drew her legs to her chest, hugged her knees and allowed the sobbing to continue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Daria stared down at the untouched meal that had been placed in front of her. The dense hot steam that had risen from her lunch was now nothing more than a faint wisp. She poked her fork at the thick golden syrup that had begun to gelatinate around the edges of the white china plate and form a gooey crust over the soggy waffles.

"What's wrong kiddo?" Rube asked between mouthfuls.

Daria lazily met Rube's questioning gaze. "Hmm?" she replied distantly.

"Your waffles. Are they undercooked? Overcooked? Is there too much syrup?"

"No, the waffle to syrup ratio is fine," she replied.

"Then what, pray tell, is the problem?" he asked as he set his knife and fork down and focused his attention on her.

"I'm sick of waffles," she said flatly.

"Then order something different," he shrugged.

"I'm sick of the menu. I'm sick of this place. I'm sick of worrying that each morning when I wake up, I might get the name of someone I knew or cared about on those stupid pieces of paper. I want to be normal, I want to go to college in Boston, I want to go through a day knowing that I'm not going to see someone die and I want pizza." She sighed in defeat as she pushed the plate of food away and raised her eyes to meet Rube's.

"We don't always get what we want kiddo, need I remind you that if you weren't sitting here complaining about these exquisite waffles, you'd be lying in a coffin six feet below the ground." To emphasize his point he pointed his index finger to the ground and tapped the table, the action caused the glass condiment bottles at the foot of the table to shake.

Daria raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "I am lying in a coffin six feet underground, my body is anyway."

Rube sighed and shook his head. "Always with the wit… My point is Daria, you should be grateful for what you've got,"

"And what's that, exactly?"

Rube leaned to his left as he pulled out his leather note book from his back pocket. He set it on the table in front of him and took from it, a small slip of yellow paper. "A seven-thirty p.m. reap." he replied as he stuck the Post-It to the table in front of Daria and resumed eating his meal.

Daria took the paper and read it.  
_  
D. Rogers  
Chez Pierre  
7:30 p.m._

"Well this is awkward, I didn't get you anything." Daria deadpanned.

"Just do the reap," Rube replied with a mouth full of food, not bothering to look up. "My job is hard enough without having to deal with your femi-angst."

Daria fished a ten dollar note from her dwindling supply of ill-gotten cash, left it and the uneaten food on the table and exited the restaurant. She checked her watch, a little more than six hours until she had to collect the soul.

She stood on the curb outside_ 'The Waffle House' _and took in her surroundings. People were busy doing their everyday errands, tedious things Daria only dreamed of caring about. She wished that making sure she got to the post office on time was the biggest thing in her day. Instead there she was, frozen to the spot in front a German themed restaurant, hot and annoyed. She glanced down at her stomach as it gave a slight growl.  
_  
'Better add hungry to that list._' she thought as she began to walk towards Pizza Prince.

***

The sputtering protests of a car engine as it ground to a halt on the opposite side of the road diverted Daria's attention from the cracks in the pavement to the aging blue '73 Plymouth Satellite. She saw the driver's fist connect with the steering wheel as they cursed out loud.

"Stupid piece of crap," Jane cried as she turned the key. "C'mon, c'mon. Please start, I promise I'll fill you up with premium, none of that cheap crap," the car squealed in protest as the whine of the engine rang out into the street.

Jane opened the door and got out, flinging it shut behind her as she stepped onto the footpath. She kicked the back tire and cursed again before sighing in defeat. Jane surveyed the street, resting her eyes on Daria who had stopped and openly watched the scene.

"Hey," she smiled and gave a small wave. "Morgan, right?"

Daria gave a slight flick of the wrist, and crossed the street. "Hi, Jane. Need help?"

"Nah, I'm on my way to rescue Trent, he and his girlfriend broke up again last night and he's stranded at her apartment. He said there was a twenty in it for me if I came and picked him up." She shrugged. "Which I would have had, if his piece of shit car got further then three blocks before cutting out. I swear to God, Trent's personality has rubbed off onto that car."

"Explains the reasoning behind his break-up. I think I'd probably dump a guy if he fell asleep every time you got him going."

Jane gave Daria an odd smile. "How'd you know Trent was a practicing narcoleptic?"

"Uh… Seemed to be the best fit for the analogy you made?" Daria replied uneasily.

"Oh. Right." Jane turned and looked at the car then back to Daria. "So where are you headed?"

"Pizza, I've been craving it all morning,"

"Mind if I tag along?" Jane asked hopefully.

"Not at all," Daria responded and the pair began to walk down the road. "Shouldn't you lock the car?"

"Nah, no-one ever tries to steal it, even if they did they'd only get a few hundred feet." Jane said with a shrug.

***

Daria and Jane were seated in a booth at 'Pizza Prince' with a half eaten pizza on the table between them.

"I keep telling him to upgrade the car to something that actually gets you from point A to point B, but he reckons the junk-yard car keeps the groupies at bay."

"Mystik Spiral have groupies?"

"Ha, they wish. The musical stylings of Mystik Spiral don't really lend themselves to the girls that they want to hook up with."

"Musical stylings? I'd say more like musical mishaps."

Jane's brow furrowed slightly. "You've heard them?"

"I saw them play the other week," Daria replied uneasily.

"Oh, well if you're not doing anything tonight you should come along to the Zen, they start at eight."

Daria's stomach did a slow roll; she really shouldn't be talking to Jane, and certainly shouldn't be making plans to return to her old haunts. "Sure, why not?"

Jane smiled as she stood and stretched. "Great I'll see you then, I should go and get Trent, the car should hopefully be rested enough to drive now. See ya later, Morgan."

"Bye."

Daria watched Jane exit and stared down at the left over pizza. For the first time since she died, Daria felt happy, but she knew it wasn't going to last. She retrieved the yellow paper from her pocket and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"T minus four hours and counting." she said quietly to herself. _'I just hope this one's entertaining.'_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter7**

Dewey Rogers peered through the small circular window of the doors that divided the kitchen from the eatery of C_hez Pierre_, with the hopes of catching a glimpse of the new hostess.

"Dewey, come on man. Maurice it going to have a fit if you don't clean your station." The calls of Lindy went unheeded as Dewey craned his neck further toward the window. Lindy pulled on the back of Dewey's shirt "Shaggy, get your ass over to your station and clean up. I'm in no mood to put up with a disgruntled chef tonight. I've got my hands full trying to train the new girl."

Dewey begrudgingly turned to face Lindy. "Fine, I'll do it, after I take a break. I'll be back in ten minutes."

Lindy crossed her arms. "If Maurice catches you..." Dewey shrugged. "You owe me, Shaggy." she called after him as she watched him walk out the back door into the alley.

Lindy shook her head as she pushed the door open and entered the eatery. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Quinn.

***

Daria and Georgia stood outside the posh restaurant.

"So who do you have?" Georgia asked as she eyed the two young valets.

"D. Rogers, I don't know them. Thank God," Daria said with relief. "What about you?" she asked hesitantly, she knew she didn't want to know but couldn't help letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Georgia pulled a crumpled Post-It out of her purse and held it into the light. "T. O'Neill, do you know him?"

Daria's stomach lurched. "Yeah," she said mournfully. Mr. O'Neill hadn't been her favorite teacher but she didn't want to see him die.

"Great, you can point him out for me it will make things a whole lot easier." Georgia said.

The two girls entered the establishment and waited at the hostess' table. A small, almost inaudible groan passed across Daria's lips as her eyes rested on the frazzled red-head behind the podium.

"Hi, welcome to_ Chez Pierre_," Quinn looked up from the reservation book she was perusing. "Morgan. Hi, what are you doing here?"

"Hey Quinn," at the mention of Quinn's name, Georgia shot a wary look toward Daria. "I didn't know you worked here."

"First night, I'm horrible. Some guy was ordering in French, and I had no idea what he was saying because I only know a few of the meals names from the times I've been here on dates and Tiffany is here on a date with Jamie. I think she's here because Sandi found out I was working to night and..."

"Quinn, are you okay? Do these girls need a table, because there's a twenty minute wait." Lindy said as she approached the three girls.

"Um... I'm not sure," Quinn said then turned back to Daria and Georgia. "Did you need a table?"

Daria shook her head. "No, actually I was wondering if D. Rogers was here."

Quinn returned her gaze to the open note book and Lindy gave Daria and Georgia an odd look. "Dewey Rogers? As in Shaggy? He's just gone on his break. He's out the back."

"Ah, thanks." Daria said.

"Quinn has the seven-thirty booking for two at table eight arrived yet, T. O'Neill?" Lindy asked.

Quinn frowned. _'T. O'Neill, not Mr. O'Neill from school...'_

Her thoughts were confirmed as she looked toward the entrance and Mr. O'Neill and Ms. Barch entered.

"Dammit," Quinn muttered as all four girls turned to the two teachers.

"Mr. O'Neill, what a surprise." Quinn said nervously.

"Oh, Quinn I didn't know you were working here. Taking the initiative to earn some extra cash to make you more independent?"

"Something like that," she laughed nervously and ushered toward Lindy. "Table for two? If you would like follow Lindy and she will seat you."

Daria gently shook Georgia's elbow and motioned her head toward Mr. O'Neill. Georgia nodded and brushed her hand over his shoulder as he and Ms. Barch passed.

"Are you okay Quinn? You look a little beat, maybe you should ask to go on your break now; fresh air could help," Daria offered; keen to have Quinn away from the ensuing mayhem that was about to unfold.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, let me get my purse. I'll meet you outside."

Daria nodded, then turned and began to walk out of Chez Pierre and around the back to where her reap was.

***

As Daria rounded the corner a smoky sweet scent titillated her senses. It was strangely familiar, yet completely foreign; it reminded her of Trent. A lone figure hidden in the partial darkness of the summer twilight jumped at her surprise appearance.

"Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack," Dewey cried as he took a step toward her.

'_I wish, and then I wouldn't be the one having to take you soul._' Daria mused as she cleared her throat. "Are you Dewey Rogers?"

Dewey removed his sun glasses and scrutinised her through his mane of shaggy blond hair. "Who wants to know?" he asked suspiciously as he drew deeply on the joint he was smoking.

"Ah, one of the hostess' inside said that you could hook me up with a bit of smoke..."

"Lindy?" he asked, Daria nodded and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry, I only have this on me at the moment," he waved the near spent roach at her. "I'll have some more a bit later though, if you can wait."

"Um, sure." Daria said.

"Cool," he flicked the joint and held out his hand. "I'm Dewey; I'll be at the Zen about ten."

Daria looked down at his hand and pointed; the roach had stuck to his forefinger. "Um..."

"Oh, shit." he waved his hand and Daria watched as it fell and landed in the deep pocket of his flimsy apron. He then offered his hand once more and Daria took it and his soul and then watched as Dewey Rogers, A.K.A Shaggy, ran through the door to the kitchen. Daria scanned the alley then sidled up to the open door and peered in.

***

"DEWEY, where are you? You lazy worthless piece of..." Maurice the short, quick tempered, French head-chef stormed through the kitchen, calling to his dish hand.

"Chill dude. I'm here," Dewey replied lazily as he strode into the kitchen.

A sharp metallic bang echoed through the kitchen and all occupants turned to the service window as Lindy pounded the steel counter. "Maurice, the flambé for table eight, I need you to light this thing." she called impatiently as she pointed at the plate of food beside her.

Maurice waved a hand dismissively at her, then turned and brandished a sharp carving knife at Dewey. "You, how dare you take time out when ze kitchen is a mess? Your job is to clean dishes and tidy ze kitchen. Look at washer, water spills everywhere, I should terminate you." Maurice sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes. "Do you smell burning?"

Dewey sniffed the air and then looked down to see a smouldering hole in the pocket of his apron. "Shit," he cried. He quickly fished out the lit roach, burning himself in the act and hopped around and flourished his arms to cope with the pain.

He didn't see the sharp blade that was still pointed at him...

Daria watched as Dewey bought his hand up. It connected with the knife and severed the thumb that had been holding the joint, at the bottom knuckle. She was surprised how easily and quickly it happened; like a hot knife through butter. The enthused force and speed that had been used when Dewey's thumb connected with the blade sent the bloody appendage and the burning ember through the air, across the kitchen onto the waiting meal. The small glow that the joint had left was enough to set the plate alight.

Lindy returned to the service window none the wiser and took the flaming plate out to the waiting customer.

Dewey stared in shock at the bloody stump that, moments ago, had been his thumb.

"My...my...my thumb! You incompetent French fuck!" he screamed as he launched himself toward the chef. Maurice sidestepped Dewey's attack and watched as the scruffy blonde stoner slipped in the greasy pool of water that had seeped from the leaking dishwasher.

Dewey's voice caught in his throat as he skidded ungainly toward the searing hot, large deep-fryer.

The kitchen moved in slow motion. The rest of the chefs and kitchen hands watched with morbid curiosity as Dewey, in his fruitless attempts to slow himself, tripped over his feet and fell face first into the bubbling brown oil. Loud sizzling crackles drowned out any and all of Dewey's cries for help, as the zealous flailing of his limbs forced him deeper into the hot liquid. As the struggling died down and the sizzles dulled to quiet pops, a sweet meaty aroma filled the kitchen.  
[molten was redundant to describe a liquid]  
Daria felt her stomach turn as the smell hit her and she turned and made her way back to the entrance to find Quinn and Georgia.

***

Lindy set the flambé on the table in front of Ms. Barch; the single most infuriating customer she had that night. "Your flambé, Ma'am," she said tersely and turned to go.

"That's why she'll never amount to anything. Catering to the male's perception of what beauty is. Did you see how much make up she had on? And you can't tell me she's happy about it; I could smell the booze on her breath." Janet's nasal voice rang out for all to hear.

"My Janet, that looks delicious!" Mr O'Neill said, in an effort to deflect Janet's attention from her feminist rants.

"I'll say." she said as she took a bite. "C'mon Skinny, dig in," she pointed at Timothy's plate. "You've barely touched it."

"I think this may have traces of dairy; you know how that plays havoc on my stomach." he smiled.

"You want to try some of this?" Janet dug her fork into the smouldering meal and smiled at Timothy as she held it out.

Timothy stared in horror at the fork as his brain registered what was on it; Dewey's partially cooked thumb. He shook his head as he pointed at it, mouth opening and closing rapidly as he tried to speak. His breath became rapid and he searched frantically for his inhaler.

Janet frowned slightly. "Fine, more for me." she replied coolly and slowly began to bring the fork to her mouth, eyes still firmly set on her beau.

Timothy shook his head violently. "No...eat." he gasped, his searching had provided no inhaler. He could feel the tight grip around his throat as he struggled for air.

"Timothy, what on earth?"

Timothy's lungs screamed for oxygen, he could feel the rapid beating of his heart as it worked overtime to supply his body with air. He dove forward over the table and plucked the thumb from the fork and waved it in Janet's face. "Thumb." he croaked, as he slid to the floor.

Janet's screams drew the attention of the floor staff to the table.

"A thumb? A human THUMB?!?" Janet's performance went on as she threatened and abused the staff.

Timothy's vision went first. As he clawed at his throat, Janet's voice rang in his ears; her angry screams were the last things he heard.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Blue and red streams of light flashed periodically over the solemn faces of the three young women as they observed the mess of emergency vehicles in the restaurant's parking lot. They watched the two coroners lift the body bags containing the recently deceased men into the back of the van. Quinn gave an involuntary shiver as she hugged her arms and turned to Daria.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"One of the kitchen staff decided to take a dip in the deep fryer, as you can see he didn't fare so well," Daria turned to Quinn, and caught the uneasy look on her face. Daria mentally chastised herself, _'Note to self, don't take such a casual approach to dead people; normal people get upset when someone dies.' _

Before Daria had a chance to make amends for her offhand comment, Quinn laughed.

"I suppose not," Quinn said, her tone more relaxed than Daria had anticipated. "Were you still going to The Zen? Jane said to meet her there at eight-ish."

Georgia shot a warning look toward Daria, "Morgan, can I have a word?" Georgia said.

"Uh, sure." Daria replied; she knew exactly what Georgia was going to say.

Daria followed Georgia to a distance far enough away from Quinn that they were out of earshot.

"Daria," Georgia started.

"Look George, I know what you're going to say. I don't care." Daria said firmly and turned to go.

"Just… Just be careful okay? I don't want you to get on Rube's bad side,"

"Then Rube isn't going to know about it, is he?" Daria replied haughtily, she wasn't going to be talked out of this. She felt a pang of guilt grip her insides as she saw the concerned expression on Georgia's face.

"Just be careful, I'll see you at home Daria," Georgia said quietly as she turned and walked to her car.

***

Scuffed footsteps sounded out into the quiet street as Quinn and Daria casually strolled in the direction of The Zen.

Daria glanced at Quinn, a concerned frown etched into her features, "Are you okay? Things were pretty overwhelming back there," she said as she directed her attention back to the road ahead.

Quinn shrugged, "Yeah, I didn't see anything but I doubt I'd be too shaken about it if I did,"

"What do you mean?" Daria asked.

"I guess I've been desensitized to sudden deaths," she cast her gaze to Daria. "If this had happened a couple of months ago, I'd probably be beside myself, but now…" Quinn trailed off and looked down at her feet.

Daria studied Quinn; her arms drawn protectively around her middle, a forlorn expression on her face. It was obvious Quinn wasn't taking everything as coolly as she was letting on.

"What happened?" Daria prodded gently, sensing Quinn's need to talk.

Quinn looked up at Daria, she shook her head and smiled quickly. "It's a long story; you don't want to know about it, besides you barely know me,"

"Try me," Daria smiled.

Quinn took a deep breath, "A couple of months ago someone close to me died, my sister. It was a freak accident at school, everyone saw it," she paused a drew a ragged breath, "It was my fault, I,"

"What? How was it your fault?" Daria interjected.

"It was my idea to have the expo, I was the one who enlisted three witless buffoons to set up the props…She'd still be alive if I had just done things differently."

"You don't honestly think that do you? Quinn, how could you have possibly know what would happen, you didn't plan the event with the knowledge that it would end with your sister's demise."

Quinn sniffed, "I know but, if she didn't…if she was still alive my life wouldn't be as messed up as what it is."

Daria flinched inwardly,_ 'Messed up? What had happened in the last eight weeks since my death?' _

Quinn glanced at Daria and continued as if reading her mind. "After Daria's death my parents kind of lost it. My Mom threw herself into her work, eighteen hour days; I never saw her. My dad sort of just, checked out. He spent…" Quinn paused, a slight scowl burrowed into her brow, "…_spends_," she corrected bitterly, "most of his days on the sofa, lying in his own filth." Quinn's tone had gotten progressively harder.

Daria looked at her uneasily; she had no idea what Quinn had been going through. Quinn continued before Daria had time to offer her sympathies.

"At first I thought Mom's new enthused attitude to work was just her way of coping, but then Tom died and his parents implored the firm to have her handle their case, now she's worse than ever!" Quinn scoffed.

"How… How's your Dad?" Daria stuttered, hopeful that her tone didn't show the desperation she felt.

"He's slowly progressing through the grieving stages but now with the divorce,"

"_Divorce_?" Daria asked incredulously.

"Yeah, it all came to a head this morning; I think they're really serious this time. I knew that their relationship had been strained for a while," Quinn smiled mournfully, "It was one of the last things Daria and I talked about. She always knew what to say to make me feel better. We were never really that close, which is what I feel most guilty about; I never got a chance to tell her that I really loved her, never had the chance to apologize for ignoring her at school, and never had a chance to really be sisters."

Daria felt the warm sting of threatening tears as Quinn spoke. Daria looked down at the footpath, "I'm sure she knew how you felt, even if you only showed it sometimes… Is that why you quit that Fashion Club thing at the funeral?" Daria asked tentatively.

Quinn nodded, "Sort of. Daria's death really put things in perspective for me, and suddenly things that had been important to me seemed trivial. I realized there was more to life than discussing the new season's colors and hem-lines, there has to be. I want to be a better person, not the vapid fashion clone I was when I was in that club; those girls aren't nice people, and they brought out the worst in me. I need real friends that like me for me. I at least want to achieve something I can be proud of by the time I die, and Daria's sudden death has shown me it might be a lot sooner than I think."

Daria felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth as a sense of pride filled her from with-in. "You're not as bad of a person as you think you are and I'm sure your sister is proud of you, but remember not to get carried away."

"You know you're probably right, she would say something like that." Quinn smiled. "You know you and her would have gotten along pretty well."

"Mmm," Daria nodded and looked up; they stood at the front doors of The Zen.

***

"Mr. O'Neill is dead?" Jane's eyes widened as she took in the information. "Quinn, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I wasn't there."

Jane and Quinn were seated at one of the booth seats on the side wall of The Zen, waiting for Morgan to return with their drinks. They were using the time of relative silence before Mystik Spiral began their set to talk.

Jane's brow furrowed, "I thought you said you were working?"

"I was, but I was lucky; Morgan said I looked like I needed a break, so I took it early."

"Oh… Wait, what was Morgan doing there?" she asked suspiciously.

"She had to see…oh no, I forgot to ask her. I spent that whole time rambling on and…"

"Quinn, what are you talking about?"

"Morgan came to the restaurant to speak to Dewey Rogers, she must of known him."

"Shaggy from school? Wait didn't you say he…"

"Yeah, in the deep fryer. I never asked if she was okay; we spent the whole walk talking about my problems." Quinn looked up and spotted Morgan balancing three glasses of soda in her hands as she returned to the table. She set them down awkwardly and took a seat.

"I forgot to ask if you were okay after all that stuff at the restaurant," Quinn started, placing a hand on Daria's arm.

"I'm fine," Daria answered.

"But, you lost a friend tonight, holding it in isn't-"

"Friend?" Daria's eyes widened, "Dewey… I ah, he wasn't a friend."

"But you were there to see him, weren't you?" Jane asked suspiciously.

"Yeah… It was for my friend, Mason. He wanted me to buy some pot for him." Daria stuttered.

"Oh," Jane and Quinn replied in unison, it was common knowledge that Dewey 'Shaggy' Rogers was a stoner.

The sound of Trent's voice pulled all three girls attention to the stage. "We're Mystic Spiral, but we're thinking of changing the name."

Daria smiled at Trent now signature opening, "Some things never change." She said quietly, not realizing it had been loud enough for Jane to hear.

Jane's brow furrowed as she scrutinized Morgan; something didn't sit right, there was about Morgan made her feel uneasy, and until she figured out exactly what that something was, she wasn't going to trust her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Jane stood at her easel, stabbing her brush unceremoniously across a large white canvas. The noise of the cheap hog's hair bristles of the brush as they scraped across the workspace were drowned out by the loud rock music that blared from her stereo speakers.

Her mood had declined since leaving the Zen, the unease she had felt whilst around Morgan had turned into restlessness, and nothing she did had abated the feeling. For the umpteenth time that evening, she allowed her mind to wander back to the exchange that had set her on edge; Morgan's comment didn't make sense. How could she have known that was Trent's signature opening if she claimed to have only seen Mystik play once?

Jane didn't notice her brother enter her room and sit on her bed. Trent reclined against the bed-head and picked up one of Jane's sketches that were spread across the duvet. It was a graphite sketch of a face; it had a kaleidoscopic effect due to its features morphing, it was almost as if a number of faces had been superimposed onto one another. Trent arched an eyebrow and looked at Jane. He watched as she threw the brush to the ground, and observed the brilliant red hue that had filled the bristles seep out onto the already multicolored carpet.

Trent turned and rotated the volume knob on the stereo, bringing silence to the room."Are you okay?" he asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine." Jane snapped back, her gaze still set on the brush.

"Are you sure?"

"I..." Jane sighed in defeat and walked over to the bed, "Have you ever met someone that you've never been able to place?"

"Not really,"

"Oh, don't worry about it then." Jane muttered, her eyes dropped to her lap.

"No, tell me." Trent urged.

"I met this girl..."

"Morgan?" Trent interjected; he had yet to meet this new girl, but had heard her name brought up in conversations a few times.

"Yeah, she... There's just something about her, something I don't trust. She claims she is new to town, but she seems to know a lot about Lawndale, about the people and about you,"

"Me?"

"Well not you exactly, Mystik Spiral."

"Maybe she's a fan?" Trent shrugged.

Jane gave Trent a serious look and arched an eyebrow.

"What? We have fans," he started defensively, Jane's expression remained unchanged. "Well people come to our gigs…"

"How many of those people would know your opening introduction?"

Trent's brow furrowed as he thought, "What opening?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "_We're Mystik Spiral but we're thinking of changing the name_."

"_That's_ what I say every gig? That's pretty…"

"Lame? I know, but that's not the point; Morgan knew it's what you opened with and she said, '_Some things never change_.' How would she know that if she has only seen you play once? Besides that's not the only thing, she was there tonight when the kid from school and Mr. O'Neill died,"

"So? I'm sure there were a few people there; that restaurant is always booked out."

"She wasn't there to eat. She and her friend showed up minutes before the accidents. Morgan asked to speak to Dewey and told Quinn to take a break- like she knew what was going to happen and didn't want Quinn to be around."

"Jane, I think you're looking a little too far into this. You said you met her at Tom's funeral, maybe he told her about the band and Lawndale. As for knowing that people were going to die,"

"I'm not being irrational Trent." Jane glared at Trent; she thought he of all people would understand.

"Insane was closer to the mark," he chuckled lightly in attempt to ease his sister's darkening mood. "Let's say this Morgan chick knew what was going to happen tonight, isn't it a good thing she was looking out for Quinn?"

"Well, I suppose. But why Quinn, why not just tell Mr. O'Neill and Shaggy to leave?"

Trent shrugged as he stood, stretched out his arms and yawned. "Maybe you should just ask Morgan?"

"Mmm." Jane replied.

"At least get to know her a little better, all these things that are putting you on edge might just be a coincidence. 'Night." Trent said as he walked out of Jane's room.

Jane considered Trent's words then looked at her phone. She pulled out a scrap of paper that had Morgan's number on it and began to punch in the numbers.

***

Daria was awoken by the shrill ringing of her alarm clock; her hand shot out from under the blankets and deftly shut it off. She sat and peered around, it was still a stranger's room; pink paisley wall-paper, a wrought iron four poster bed, and a wardrobe of designer clothes- this wasn't her. The little hints of Daria's presence lay on the writing desk in the corner, her old black rimmed glasses; once a necessary accessory, now an object to collect dust along with the other knickknacks. A replica skull sculpture she had found at the second-hand book shop, an old worn copy of _Blood Meridian_ and a small piece of padding similar to that of her old room.

Something had changed within Daria, and it wasn't just her outward appearance. The night before after she had returned home from the Zen, just as she was readying herself for yet another sleepless night, she had received a call from her 'new' friend Jane. For the first time since her death, Daria was looking forward to the day ahead. She rose from her bed and began to ready herself for the day.

***

Daria stood at the end of the team's regular table and waited patiently for Rube to notice her presence, as usual he was engrossed in his daily crossword. She cleared her throat to gain his attention.

"Nine letter word for restive…" he said, not bothering to look up.

"Impatient." Daria replied without missing a beat.

Rube looked up at Daria as he folded the newspaper, "Morning Kiddo. Not hungry?"

"I already ate." She replied bluntly, "Can I just have my assignment?"

"Why the rush, why don't you sit down and have some coffee?"

"I'm fine, I'm… I have some errands to run," Daria said quickly.

"You know the coffee here is some of the best in Lawndale," Rube replied, ignoring Daria's request.

"Rube," Daria's tone had become hard, she was due to meet Jane and Quinn in less than an hour.

"You should stop being so impatient, take some time out."

"I'm dead, all I have is time and I don't feel like wasting it here drinking coffee." She said.

Rube's brow furrowed as he scrutinized Daria, "Listen Daria," Rube started, the serene tone he had moments before was lost. "I know where you're going, and who you're going with. I don't approve,"

"How do you know?"

"I just do, I want you to be careful. Remember, Jane was _Daria's_ friend not yours. The friendship _should_ have died with Daria." Daria looked at her feet while Rube continued, "We don't belong. We're Reapers; we live on the fringe of their world and more often than not only bad things come from our interactions."

Daria's gaze was ripped from the ground to the table as Rube slapped a Post-It on the end of it. Daria took it wordlessly and exited the restaurant. As she began to walk down the street she looked at the details of her assignment, her stomach turned as she re-read it. It was at the mall, the same time and place she was meant to meet Jane.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"I'm Tori Jericho, reporting for KSBS news. I'm here at the Lawndale Mall with an update on the strike that has spanned the past six days. This morning it was announced that a major development had occurred over night when the board of directors decided to shut Lawndale Mall's doors after management learned that a majority of the remaining janitorial staff had joined the recently dismissed employees in a united front in a bid to reclaim their…" Tori's next words were drowned out by the deafening blast of a delivery truck, as it swept past her. "DAMMIT CUT!!!" she cried as the hand that held her microphone dropped to her side. "Will somebody please get a timetable of those damn trucks so I'll know when I can get five minutes to finish my bit? I also need you to get a shot of the picket line." Tori's free hand came to rest on her hip as she jutted it out and glared at her crew; the three 'J's', each carrying a piece of A/V equipment. The camera was pointed in the opposite direction to the striking employees, on a smaller, more fashionable group.

"Guys?! Picket line, NOW." Tori huffed as she walked toward the Fashion Club.

Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany were seated behind a booth; a banner reading _'Save the mall'_ was strung up above their heads, a few wannabe clubbers were also gathered around behind them.

"What are you doing?" Tori growled; years of jumping through hoops to gain Sandi's approval had worn her patience down.

"Hello Tori, how nice of you to support our cause." Sandi sneered.

"I'm not here to support you, I'm working," Tori said.

"Well it doesn't look like you're being very productive," the smirk on Sandi's face widened.

"How can I be? You and your friends are distracting my crew."

"Well it's not my fault we're much better looking and interesting than those ugly and unfashionable immigrants over there." Sandi waved a limp hand dismissively toward the crowd. "Maybe, your station should do a piece on us?"

"And why would the station waste time on you?" Tori rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

"Because we're protesting against the protesters and the closure of the mall. If they don't work the mall will be shut down like, forever and we will have to drive all the way to the Mall of the Millennium."

"Right," Tori said and rolled her eyes. "I don't know how the four of you will cope." She looked at the three girls, "Where is Quinn any way?" she smirked.

Sandi visibly faulted quickly before regaining her composure, then answered, "Geez Tori, I thought you of all people would have known what happened, maybe this job is impacting on your popularity?"

Before Tori had a chance to rebut, a middle aged man summoned her to a white van with the news stations logo emblazoned on the side.

Sandi scowled as she watched Tori and the three 'J's' go, "We need to make sure Tori doesn't film the piece on the strike." Sandi said darkly as she turned to address the remaining two girls of the Fashion Club.

"Why? I think-" Stacy started.

"Stacy, what did I tell you about thinking?" Sandi cut in.

"That," Stacy began timidly.

"It was a rhetorical question Stacy," Sandi rolled her eyes, and turned back to the white van.

Sandi watched as Joey was sent to the loading dock situated behind them, a smile crept across her lips as she formulated a plan.

"Stacy, follow Joey. Keep him there, do whatever it takes. Tiffany, I want you to go over to the van and listen to what's going on, let me know when they're going to start filming again."

"What are you going to do?" Stacy asked as she stood and looked fretfully toward the loading dock.

"Someone has to stay here to be filmed."

***

Tori pushed her way through the crowd from the van to the picket line, ordering the remaining two 'J's' into a position to get the best shot. Out the corner of her eye she watched as Sandi directed her minions, then disappeared into the crowd, unperturbed she cleared her throat and began her introduction again.

***  
A sense of foreboding took over Daria as she approached the entrance of the mall. She had ten minutes to claim her reap, and the congregation of approximately fifty people surrounding the front doors was going to make it hard. Daria edged her way closer to the front of the crowd to get an idea of what was going on, if the home-made signs were anything to go by, she was standing in the middle of a picket line. Out the corner of her eye she spotted Jane and Quinn also slipping through the crowd, she called out, but her meagre attempts at gaining her friends attention were drowned out by bellows of the people around her.

There was no need to recheck the details on the Post-It, she knew who it was and a small morbid thrill ran through her as she envisioned how this person was going to die. The guilt Daria had felt in her first couple of months as a Reaper had begun to ebb with each reap. Although this one was different, she felt no guilt over her role in this person's demise, she was actually glad to see the name on the crumpled yellow paper.

As she weaved her way to the front of the crowd, Daria felt the all too familiar tingling sensation as her hand brushed against someone's shoulder. She looked at her hand as the dying wisp of the soul disappeared, her reap was already lost among the throng of the crowd.

***

Jane groaned as Quinn led her through the crowd in the direction of the front doors. "Quinn, I know I said I'd do something you wanted to do today, but..." Jane waved an arm at the striking mall employees.

"This is nothing, wait until I take you to a mid-season clearance sale at Cashman's." Quinn laughed. Her smile was short lived as she saw Sandi on the opposite side of the entrance. "Oh, hell no," she uttered as she watched Sandi stand and make her way over to Quinn.

"Well, well, well. You really have fallen from grace, hanging around with a loser like Lane."

"Hey," Quinn and Jane said in unison. "At least she's a better person than you," Quinn continued.

"Ha! Maybe we should let everyone know who is responsible for this whole protest thingy and the closure of the mall."

Quinn's eyes widened, "No."

"Oh I think I will," Sandi sneered, before yelling. "All you protester people, this girl's mother is the one responsible for getting you all fired!"

A silence fell across the crowd as all eyes were drawn to the four girls.

"You bitch!" Quinn yelled and lunged toward Sandi.

The two girls quickly became entangled in a mess of limbs and hair. Daria arrived by Jane's side and watched on with the rest of the crowd as profanities were thrown between Quinn and Sandi.

***

Stacy looked fretfully toward the Fashion Club's stand and saw that Sandi had left her post. With a small whimper she turned back to Joey.

"Please, don't do it. Sandi will kill me if Tori doesn't do the piece on her," she pleaded.

Joey shrugged, "If I tamper with the trucks engine so it doesn't interrupt her, Tori said she'd show me her boobs, I've got no choice."

"But,"

"Come on, if you help me I won't tell Sandi that you hooked up with Tyler before her at Spring Fling last year."

"You said you'd keep that a secret!" said Stacy.

"Then you'll help me, great." Joey led Stacy to the trucks cabin; thankfully the door had been left open. Joey guessed they'd have five minutes to do what needed to be done before the driver returned. "Now, when I say pull that lever to pop the hood."

Stacy nodded and looked down at the collection of levers under the steering wheel, and when prompted pulled the largest one. Both Stacy and Joey cried out simultaneously as the truck slowly began to roll back, down the ramp and toward the crowd.

A high pitched scream alerted the crowd of the ensuing disaster. All eyes turned from the girl's scuffle to the large truck that was ambling down the loading ramp, picking up speed with each second. In a flurried panic, the crowd dispersed across the parking lot.

Jane turned back to Quinn, "Quinn, move it!" she yelled as she ran in and pried the two girls apart, using extra force to push Sandi back in the direction of her booth.

Daria stood on the spot, arms folded loosely across her midsection, her eyes bored and disinterested as she watched the truck roll off the ramp and head toward the news van. It flew past, narrowly missing Tiffany as she checked her make-up in the KSBS van's reflective side-window, Daria got the feeling the blasé bimbo had no idea how close she had come to certain death. The news crew leapt out of the way and Tori instructed the two remaining 'J's' to continue filming the unfolding chaos.

The truck crashed past, over the curb, up onto the footpath and came to a shuddering halt as it crashed through the glass front doors.

Daria checked her watch; there was less then one minute to go. She spied her reap out the corner of her eye as she heard the groan of the buildings foundations. After a crumble of concrete and a screech of metal, Daria watched as the large flagpole that had been attached to the top of the entrance began to fall.

Sandi didn't have a chance. The large broken beam flipped mid air and fell straight down, impaling her to the concrete footpath.

It looked like Sandi would get her wish; she was going to be the news story of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Daria couldn't help but allow the thrill of guilty pleasure to course through her veins as she watched Sandi pace back and forward on the foot path, cursing out loud. Sandi had appeared a good twenty feet from her body and had begun to throw out insults and orders to those around her in a feeble effort to gain their attention. Daria guessed that Sandi was unaware that she had passed into the spirit realm and her increasingly angry words were falling on deaf ears, no one could hear her, except Daria. She groaned and began to walk over to Sandi.

"Sandi," Daria called in a hushed whisper when she had reached her.

Sandi spun around; the look of relief that had flashed across her face disappeared instantly and was replaced by one of horror when she saw her addresser. "Quinn's cousin?!? What the hell?" she said incredulously.

Daria exhaled slowly, years of built up hatred rose up like bile at the utterance of the pet name she had been given by Quinn's fiendish friends. Daria had planned to be nice in an effort to soften the blow of telling Sandi she had died, but quickly rethought her plan of attack. "You're dead," she said bluntly. There was no doubt in Daria's mind that Sandi didn't deserve any special treatment.

"Of course I'm dead, I'm not an idiot and I'm not blind. You think I didn't notice all the chaos?" Sandi waved an arm to the crowd that had gathered around her body.

"Then why are you yelling and shouting?" Daria asked.

"Like duh, I'm trying to find my guardian angel," Sandi shook her head and looked at Daria like she had grown three heads.

Daria made no attempts to suppress the laughter that erupted uncharacteristically from her, "Guardian… Angel?" she managed between breaths.

"Of course, guardian angels take you to heaven when you die. They appear just after you…" A look of pure horror settled on Sandi's features, her eyes grew wide as she looked at Daria and slowly began to shake her head. "No…no…no you're… you're dead, which makes you…"

A smirk pulled at the corner of Daria's lips as she watched Sandi. "I'm not your guardian angel."

Relief washed over Sandi, "Oh thank God! To think someone like you could be an angel," Sandi scoffed. "I mean where do I start? That hair, those clothes or the makeup, well the lack of makeup you're not even wearing foundation. If you're not my guardian angel, what are you doing here?"

"I'm a Grim Reaper. I took you're soul just before you died." Daria said impatiently as she looked around.

Most of the people had gathered around Sandi's body, the remaining two Fashion Club members held each other and sobbed as they answered Tori's questions. It seemed that Tori and her crew had filmed the whole incident and were now getting the reactions of the crowd. Daria had lost Quinn and Jane in the bedlam and hoped that they had fled just as most of the mall's staff had done; something Daria wished she had the luxury of doing. Daria turned to Sandi who had also been taking in the scene.

"At least I had a memorable death; you know one of a kind," Sandi said flippantly, as she ran her hand through the underside of her hair and flicked the ends out.

Daria smirked once more, "Yeah, just like mine."

"What?" Sandi's head snapped back to Daria.

"You remember? At the fashion expo. If it wasn't for you I'd still be alive. You caused a pair of oversized hairpins to impale me to a chair. I can't wait for Tori's news story; I heard they are already comparing our deaths. She said mine was much worse than yours."

"But, but…" Sandi stuttered, the horror of having her own death being compared to someone like Daria had rendered her speechless.

Daria sighed, she almost felt pity for the vapid teen, almost. Daria knew that the tact she had taken with Sandi was getting her nowhere, if she wanted to get home anytime soon, she would have to be civil to Sandi. "Look if it makes you feel any better, you get to move on while I'm stuck here." Daria said earnestly.

"Move on? Like go to heaven?"

Daria shrugged, "When you're ready."

"What do I have to do?" Sandi asked cautiously.

Daria could sense the fear in her voice and she shrugged once more, "It's different for everyone. You first have to acknowledge that you've died and then, from what I gather, you imagine what heaven is to you."

"And then what?" As Sandi spoke a bursting bright light lit up the parking lot in the luminescent form of a department store. Sandi turn and stared in awe, "Wow." She breathed.

Daria watched as Sandi walked toward her lights. She grumbled and turned to make her way back home.

***

Jane gave a frustrated cry as she watched Quinn walk down the path. Although Jane had come to appreciate Quinn's special brand of crazy, all day adventures with her were arduous and Jane found herself physically and mentally drained, but to be fair the unexpected death at the mall had contributed slightly.

Jane shut the heavy wooden door and shuffled over to the television and smiled. "_Sick, Sad World _marathon here I come." She said as she pointed the remote at the VCR and pressed play.

The screen flickered to life and the opening credits began to play. Jane retreated to the sofa and flopped onto the threadbare cushions, just as the screen flickered and the theme song of _'Golden Girls'_ began to play. Jane sat up; her brow furrowed as she studied the remote and hit the fast forward button.

"Trent!" she called as she let her gaze divert to the ceiling, a loud thump from above signified his presence in the house.

Jane returned her attention to the television to see the opening of the daily news broadcast and hit play, "TRENT!!" she growled.

"Keep your shirt on Janey, what is it?" Trent replied sleepily as he descended the stairs.

"Did you mess with the VCR today?"

"No. Oh wait, yeah there was this special on MTV about Nirvana and I recorded it, you want to watch it with me?" he replied, stifling a yawn as he stretched out.

"Really, you taped it? That's funny because all I see is an hour of the _Golden Girls_ and the nightly news,"

"Oh, I guess it may have paid to check that I was on the right channel." He drawled.

"You think?" Jane shook her head.

"Hey, isn't that you?" Trent pointed to the screen.

Jane turned and watched, silently reliving the events of that morning. It was surreal seeing it from the cameras point of view, she felt like a voyeur watching herself flee from the scene. Both Quinn and Jane had fled the accident, having lost Morgan in the commotion and they had spent the remainder of the day sitting in silence at the _Pizza Prince_.

"What happened?" Trent asked his eyes glued to the screen.

"Accident." She replied vaguely.

As she said it a clip of the truck losing control and plowing through the crowd was shown. The camera was jerky as it lurched back and forward but showed the crowd well enough to depict the chaos. Panicked screaming sounded out of the small television speakers, and the people on the screen were running in all directions. All but one a short, auburn haired young teen who stood still wither her face calm and void of any upset emotion.

Morgan's Zen-like attitude gave Jane chills, _'She knew what was going to happen, there's no other explanation as to why she is so calm and collected, except maybe she actually made the accident happen…' _

Jane pointed the remote to the television and switched it off, "I'm going to bed, I'm beat." She said uneasily as she tossed the control to Trent and then began to ascend the stairs.

_'I've got her, I just need to get some solid evidence to prove she's… she's what exactly? A killer, a clairvoyant? Whatever she is there's no way she'll admit anything if all I have is the tape. A few more days and I'll have her; I just have to keep her away from Quinn. The last thing that girl needs is this kind of drama.'  
_

***

As she arrived home, Quinn took a moment to prepare herself. She had heard her parents fighting from three houses away and after the day's events, all she wanted to do was crawl under the covers of her bed and hide.

"…Nothing but a nasty soul-sucking bitch!" As Quinn opened the front door she was slapped in the face by her father's voice.

"Oh, big words for a spineless corporate lapdog with daddy issues." Helen shot back.

Quinn slammed the door and walked through to the kitchen, where her parents were fighting. She went to the cupboard, poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat at the kitchen table; her arrival and actions went unnoticed by Helen or Jake as they packed up the kitchen items.

"Oh no you don't, that espresso machine was a gift from my mother," Helen grabbed the appliance from Jake's hands.

"Really, well the microwave was mine, _I_ bought it with _my _money!" he yelled as he ripped the cord from the wall.

Quinn groaned, "Hi sweetie, how was your day?" she said to herself, mocking her mother's voice. "Oh great Mom, I went to the mall, Oh that's great, see anything exciting kiddo?... Not much dad, my ex-best friend died, nothing special…" Quinn muttered into her cereal bowl.

"Well don't think you're getting the Lexus," Jake yelled.

Helen scoffed, "Why would I want that?_ I _can afford a new car with _my_ new salary!"

Quinn frowned and rose from the table, looking squarely at her parents, "Will you two cut it out? At least have the courtesy to have a cease fire when I'm around." She shook her head and ran up the stairs to her room.

Helen and Jake looked at each other, "Don't you dare apply for custody of Quinn," Helen sneered.

"HA! When exactly in your nineteen hour days were you planning on raising _our_ daughter?"

Quinn stood by her door and shut it quietly. A surge of anger flowed like fire around her body, _'How dare they use me as a pawn in their petty battles_' she thought bitterly.

"Oh God, I just wish they'd cut it out, I don't know how much more of this I can take" she sobbed as she collapsed against the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Daria watched as Rube handed out the Post-Its containing the day's reaps. She counted them silently as he stacked hers in front of her._ 'One…Two…Three, looks like a busy day.' _She mused to herself and let out a tired sigh.

Rube let his virulent gaze drift from reaper to reaper; the same disgruntled expression on Daria's face was mirrored on each of her co-workers, Mason went as far as to give an exaggerated sigh as he slumped deeper into his chair.

"Something wrong Mason?" Rube asked.

Mason perked and turned to Rube, "Me, nope. Nothing wrong, in fact I'd like to ask for more assignments, I don't think four is enough." Mason responded, his words were dripping with sarcasm.

"The fourth of July is always a big day Mason, you know that. Something about celebrating the country's independence that sends people a little crazy," Rube said.

Daria's brow furrowed, "July the fourth? It's July already?" she said quietly, eyes still set on the paper stack in front of her. _'Had eight weeks really passed since I died? How did the time pass so quickly? Sure, I'd spent a lot of the time wrapped up in self pity and mourning, but eight weeks?'  
_  
"…Get rid of her Daria." Rube's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Huh?" Daria said vacantly as she looked up.

Rube's jaw clenched and she saw the small vein on the side of his face throb slightly; it was an expression she had seen regularly on her old History teacher, Mr. D. "Get rid of her," he repeated quietly.

Daria looked questioningly at Rube before scanning the restaurant. Her blood ran cold as she spotted the source of Rube's anger. Jane was standing by the entrance of the Waffle House, peering in through the window.

"Jane…" Daria said quietly.

"Go, now. Take your assignments and get them done. Don't let your new friend tag along, she's been around too many of your reaps. She's going to catch on," Rube said finally and Daria stood, dropped a ten dollar note on the table and exited the restaurant.

***  
Georgia watched Daria leave and studied the paper stack in front of her. The color drained from her face as she got to the second sheet.

"Rube…" she said as she looked at Rube and held the note up.

Rube gave a small nod, "I know."

"But, I can't." Georgia said.

"You can, and you will," he replied bluntly.

"What am I suppose to tell her? She's only just gotten used to being dead herself. When I tell her-"

"You're not going to tell her," Rube interjected. "We've got a big day ahead of us. I can't afford to have her running around trying to prevent the death, or shirking her own reaps."

Georgia groaned, "That's not fair Rube, she deserves to know."

"Then you decide. If you think she's able to do her own reaps with the knowledge that someone she loves is going to die, tell her. If not, keep it to yourself until after you've taken the soul."

Georgia opened her mouth in protest but the words never came, Rube was right. "Fine," she answered begrudgingly and stuffed the notes into her bag.

***

"Morgan," Jane called, her voice housing an uncharacteristic cheerful tone. "I thought I saw you in there. What's up?"

Daria was taken aback by Jane's chipper attitude and struggled to answer. She hadn't seen Jane since her mall reap four days prior, and any attempt at contacting her had been fruitless. "Hi Jane, what are you doing here?" Daria asked uneasily.

"Just passing through," Jane replied vaguely.

"I tried calling you after the fiasco at the mall-" Daria started.

"Yeah, the phone was cut off. That's what you get when you leave your slacker brother in charge of paying the utilities." It was a half truth, Trent hadn't paid the bills, but there was nothing wrong with the phone. Jane had been screening the calls, waiting until she had a plan before seeing Morgan again. After two solid days of plotting, Jane had come up with nothing better than to follow Morgan in the hopes of seeing something irregular.

"Oh. Well I have to go; I have somewhere I have to be…" Daria started.

Jane looked down at Daria's hand that held the Post-Its. "What's that?"

Daria cursed silently and shoved the papers in her pocket, "Um… they're…"

"Morgan, I need you to check out those sources and see if there's a story in them. I need you to have the story to me tonight." Daria jumped, as Georgia appeared behind Jane.

"Sources?" Jane asked and cocked an eyebrow to Daria. "You're a reporter?"

"Um, yeah… Well I just get the facts, Georgia writes them up," she replied.

"Cool," Jane replied after a moment. "Can I come with?"

Daria shifted her gaze over Jane's shoulder and saw Georgia shake her head slowly, "Sure, why not."

"Cool, I have Trent's car, I'll go get it," she said as she walked off.

Georgia slapped Daria's arm, hard. "Are you crazy? She's already suspicious," she hissed.

"No she's not," Daria replied uneasily. She wasn't all that convinced she was right. Jane had been acting weird, and it wasn't just normal Jane weird. "It's okay, I'll be careful."

"You better. Listen, Rube said our last reaps are around the same time and place tonight, at the City Park. I'll meet you near the apartment block over near the park, do you know where that is?"

Daria nodded. The apartment block in question was affectionately known as Bachelor Blocks it was near Dega Street. She and Jane had been there when Daria had still been alive when they had gone to visit Mr. O'Neill. There was a good hour or two between her second and third reap and she would have plenty of time to get there. She hoped she'd be able to shake Jane in that time if she was still tailing her.

"Great," Georgia replied, she paused and gave Daria a sad smile, "I'll see you then," she said and walked to her car.

Daria stood, frozen to the spot trying to figure out why Georgia had looked at her that way; it was a little unnerving. A blast of a car horn brought her attention back to the street, and to Trent's car. Daria walked over, hopped in and looked at Jane.

"Where are we going?" Jane asked.

"To the outskirts of town, near the quarry." Daria replied and the car pulled out into traffic and sped away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

A frigid mood had settled over the Morgendorffer residence. The air was thick with tension and as Quinn descended the stairs she noticed how eerily silent the house was. As long as she didn't find one of her parents standing over the other's lifeless body wielding a sharp implement, she was thankful for the silence. Quinn stood in the kitchen's doorway and observed her parents actions. Helen stood stoically by the kitchen counter, her face drawn into a tight scowl as she perused the files of her latest case, pausing occasionally to glance over at her soon to be ex-husband. Like most mornings since the 'D' word had been uttered, her father sat alone at the table, hastily eating his breakfast in a bid to escape the house as fast as he could. Quinn entered the kitchen, retrieved her cereal from the cupboard, poured her milk into the bowl and sat beside Jake. She noted that the day's paper had been left unread, in a pile with the other ignored papers.

"Hi Daddy." Quinn said quietly.

Jake had made no indication that he had heard her; Quinn suddenly felt an affinity with the neglected newspapers.

"Quinn I'm off to work. Don't forget I have the dinner party tonight, so I won't be home 'til late." Helen gave Quinn a pained smile as she collected the papers in front of her. "I love you sweetie," she added and left the room, the sound of a slamming door sounded out moments later.

"Morning kiddo," Jake said as he put down his spoon and offered Quinn a sorrowful smile. "Sorry about before, you know your mother… Every time I open my mouth she jumps right down my throat."

Quinn was silent for a moment while she considered his apology. "I know, its okay," she said with a small smile.

"So, since your mother is busy tonight, I was wondering if you would like to help me move into my new place. It could use a fashionable eye to give it some appeal. You don't have-"

"I'd love to." Quinn answered quickly.

Jake smiled appreciatingly at Quinn. "Thanks honey. The apartment isn't much, since… Since my return, work has been a little…" he trailed off and looked into the sloppy wet mush that had once been bran flakes.

"That's okay, I don't care where you live just as long as I can still see you."

"You'll always be able to see me, any time of the day or night. So, I was going to drop by about one and pick you up? There are a few things I need to finish at the office," he said as he got up and carried his bowl to the sink.

"See you then." Quinn said as she watched her father leave, a small contented sigh escaped her lips. She hoped the friction that had invaded her life over the past couple of months was starting to ease.

***

The cabin of the car had been steeped in an uncomfortable silence. Only spasms of music from the car's speakers, as the electronics dropped in and out while the car drove over the rutted dirt road, broke the silence. Jane brought the car to a stop and both girls peered out of the windscreen and stared in awe at the display in front of them. A large white marquee had been erected on a flat at the edge of the quarry, dozens upon dozens of people stood in and around the shelter, all wearing dark purple velvet robes. Two white vans were parked on the fringe of the area amongst a spattering of cars, most of which were old junkers. One vehicle in particular stood out, a _Sick Sad World_ news van.

The two girls looked at each other with mirrored expressions of puzzlement and silently exited the car, then began to make their way to the crowd.

"A cult, in Lawndale?" Jane asked as they walked.

"It's not the most unbelievable thing I've heard." Daria responded. She fished into her pocket and pulled out the notes she had been given that morning. She made sure Jane wasn't watching and checked the details.

_A. Glick  
Lawndale Quarry  
10:05 am  
_  
Daria frowned as she re-read the name, _'A. Glick, that name is familiar, but from where?' _she thought and scanned the crowd. On closer inspection, Daria found that many of the attendees were nutjobs she had seen at the Sci-Fi conventions and a few were regulars for the _Sick Sad World_ broadcasts. _'A. Glick…'_

A whine of feedback cut through the crowd, silencing them, the only sound was the reverberation from the P.A system as it bounced around the quarry.

"Ahem," A bespectacled, ginger haired gangly young man stood on the small makeshift stage at the front of the crowd. The young man that had once spent three hours explaining to Daria and the Lane siblings, in intricate detail, his encounters with extraterrestrials. "My name is Artie Glick and I want to thank each and every one of you for coming today to witness my, and hopefully your, ultimate encounter." The crowd cheered and spurred Artie on. "As you by now all know, I have had many encounters with visitors from other worlds, but I now have proof. I have seen them, the purple creatures."

"Oooohhhh." The crowd responded. Daria shook her head, this was ridiculous. He had them eating out of his hand.

"But I now know what we must do to appease these beings." The crowd cheered once again. "I must converse with these creatures and will be back momentarily. Once again welcome and thank you."

"Are these people a bunch of kooks or what?" Jane murmured to Daria, "So who is your informant?"

"Artie. Can you wait here and I'll be back soon?" Daria responded and walked off before Jane had given her an answer.

Jane waited until Daria was at least six feet ahead of her and began to follow, it wasn't hard to track her since she and Jane were the only people not garbed in the purple robes.

Daria spotted Artie and cautiously began to approach him. He had a secluded area to the far left corner of the marquee, around a table that housed three large drink coolers. He was pacing back and forward mumbling to himself. As Daria got closer she was able to decipher what he was saying.

"…And with these sacrifices we offer ourselves to you…"

He was blessing the coolers. Daria's eyes widened in shock, he was planning on sacrificing himself and the others; a mass suicide, to keep the purple gods happy._ 'Purple Gods… Oh god, he's talking about the gravelings.'_

"Artie?" she asked tentatively.

Artie spun around and looked at Daria. "Yes?"

"You know this is madness, killing yourself for the gravelings." She reached an arm out under the façade of comforting him in a bid to reap his soul; unfortunately he turned and slipped from her grasp as he paced back in the opposite direction.

"Gravelings eh? They are known as many things my child," he said sagely.

Daria scoffed, her temper wavering. "Don't be such an idiot! You are the only one going to die today," Daria mentally chastised herself and looked back at Artie, who know stared open mouthed at her.

"How… Wait, you. I know you. _You_ were at the sports center that day! _You_ control them, don't you? It's not them, it's _you_!" Artie asked shocked.

Daria looked around; although Artie's voice was loud it hadn't attracted any attention that Daria knew of… Jane stood behind the shelter of the stage, eyes wide. _'What the hell? She does know when people are going to die. The way that lunatic was talking, she kills them... But that can't be right, can it? I thought the exact same thing no less than an hour ago, but does that make me right, or as crazy as him?'_ She thought with horror and peered around the corner of the stage. She watched Morgan say a few words and pat Artie on the shoulder. Artie nodded then walked to the cooler, poured a drink and returned to the stage. Jane circled around the back of the crowd to where she and Morgan had left each other and waited for her to return. A million thoughts resurfaced, Jane had almost bought Morgan's reporter story, but now? Now she didn't know what Morgan was.

Morgan arrived by Jane's side as Artie took the stage once more. The crowd gave an uproarious cheer and he held out his hands to silence them.

"Friends and followers, I had promised you all an answer, a way to rid our world of these beasts. I thought I had an answer, one which I was sure would work, but alas…' He held his hand to his forehead and sighed dramatically. "It wasn't to be, I must be the sole sacrifice today," he said quickly and drank the contents of the cup in three swift gulps.

One agonizingly slow minute passed as the crowd waited. Artie stood on stage, unmoving eyes stared out over the crowd.  
"I… I didn't die, I-" Artie doubled over and fell to a heap on the ground, writhing in pain.

The crowd looked on in shock as he convulsed, foam exuded from his mouth and nose. His high pitched painful wails echoed around the quarry. The first to the stage had been the _Sick Sad World _reporter, who promptly began CPR.

Then all was silent. Artie was dead. Almost immediately, a large burst of cylindrical light poured down upon Artie's body, and Daria watched as his spirit was lifted up onto a large spaceship.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The sweltering sun beamed down upon the citizens of Lawndale as they scurried about, making final preparations for the evening celebrations. Daria and Jane sat side by side under the shelter of a small roofed picnic table on the edge of Lawndale's Municipal Park; the greater and more frequented of Lawndale's public spaces, watching the stalls and entertainment rides being erected, Not a word had been exchanged since leaving the quarry an hour and a half earlier. Daria had been observing Jane, she seemed a little rattled but not as much as she should have been after witnessing Artie's very public suicide. Daria was unsure whether or not this was a front or Jane truly didn't care.

Eyes set on the stalls in front of them, Jane cleared her throat and asked, "Did you know what was going to happen this morning?"

"No," Daria replied after a moment's hesitation, not liking where the conversation was likely headed.

"But you knew something was going down, you said it yourself that Artie was a source. His story was your story, for your article." Jane continued, eyes still set firmly ahead.

"Ah… Yeah, I was told he had a story to tell… It wasn't until I spoke to him that I knew what he had planned," Daria said, her voice unsteady as she began to tread into dangerous territory. She hadn't lied, she knew nothing of the planned mass suicide, although she knew for sure there would only be one death at the quarry since she hadn't seen any of her colleagues at the site.

"Oh, it's just…" Jane started.

"Just what?" Daria probed, the urge to tell all suddenly took hold and she struggled to quash the impulse.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Jane replied as she turned to face Daria. "Are you hungry? I could go a pizza." She said as she stood and waited.

"Sure, overly processed, greasy food sounds great." Daria said. Her next reap was at seven pm and she had six hours to waste.

They entered the pizza place, sat in a booth seat and ordered a pizza to share.

"So where is Quinn? I haven't seen her in a while," Daria asked, being careful to hide her curiosity.

"Her dad's moving out today, and he asked her to help him," Jane replied.

"Oh… okay." She had forgotten about her parents' pending divorce, she had dismissed the notion entirely since empty divorce threats were exchanged quite often when Daria had been alive. Maybe that's why her parents had finally called it quits, the added stress of losing a daughter finally peaked their intolerance for each other. She guessed the time that should have been spent as a family mourning together had resulted in Helen going overboard at work, and Jake ceasing to operate completely. Poor Quinn had been caught in the middle…

***

As Quinn busied herself in her room, selecting which cherished objects would be relocated to her dad's new place of residence, she heard the sound of a car door shutting, followed by the opening of the front door. She glanced at her alarm clock, 1:35 pm. Jake had called her earlier to inform her that he would be late in picking her up and to expect him at three.

"Must have gotten off early," she said aloud as she made her way over to a window and peered down at the driveway.

Helen's SUV was stationed in its usual spot.

Quinn gave a small groan as she heard her mother's footsteps as she climbed the stairs. A moment later a quiet knock came from the opposite side of Quinn's bedroom door.

"Hi Mom," Quinn called as Helen opened the door and entered the room.

"Hi sweetie, what are you doing home? I thought you would be out with one of your friends, I just saw Jane and another girl over by the park."

"Maybe later, I'm not in the mood right now," Quinn said.

"Hmmm, well I have something that will cheer you up. I've been asked to invite you to the dinner party tonight at Governors Park." Helen beamed.

"Why? So you can parade me around in front of your would-be clients under the guise of being a happy family? No thanks," Quinn said, making no attempt to mask the hostility in her voice.

"This matter isn't up for discussion Quinn," Helen said sternly.

"Who's discussing it? I'm not going, I won't be used as a tool to help further your career, besides, I'm busy."

"Helping your father settle into his new abode? Quinn for now you're living under my roof, so you will do as I say. I will pick you up from your father's at eight."

"Fine, if I have to do as you say while I'm under _your_ roof, I'll move out. I'm going to live with dad. He won't order me around like you."

"Don't even try that game. Don't play us off each other, because you won't win. No more arguments, you are coming to dinner," Helen said finally and exited the room.

Quinn stared at the back of the shut door. She stifled an angry scream and hurled the plush bear she had been holding at it.

***

The danger points were everywhere. The old rusty fairground rides. The questionable carnival food. Game stalls involving darts, BB guns and hard balls... Daria had learned quickly that anything could cause death, most would consider a baseball a harmless thing to play with, but she now knew better after the sports center incident…. She shuddered as the memories rushed back. The park had been transformed, under the blanket of darkness the park took on a whimsical and slightly maniacal glow. Daria glanced at Jane who was taking it all in, the bright colors and tinny fairground music seemed to have put her into a regressive trance-like state, she was like a child moving from attraction to attraction with uncharacteristic glee.

Daria had less than half an hour until her scheduled reap, and she had yet to find them. _J. White_, the name was familiar, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember what the 'J' stood for. She didn't dare ask Jane, she didn't want to be caught out twice in the one day.

"Hey, you want to go on the Tilt-O-Whirl?" Jane asked.

"Maybe later." Daria responded.

"You want to wait for me while I ride it?"

"Sure," Daria said. She could use the time alone to scout for her reap.

"Cool," said Jane as they began to walk toward it.

As they stood in line a group of guys lined up behind them.

"Dude, I can't believe the girls bailed on us," said the short haired brunette.

"I know, I thought I was actually getting somewhere with Stacy," said the black haired one.

"I just wish Quinn was hanging out with them. She seems to have just disappeared since summer vacation started," said the blond.

Daria turned, the three guys were Quinn's old suitors. Joey, Jeffy and… _'Jamie! Jamie White.'_

Daria breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Jane. "I'll wait for you outside, okay?"

"Sure, see you on the other side," Jane said with a smirk.

Daria turned and excused her way through the line, making sure to push past Jamie and collect his soul.

***

Daria stood and watched Jane lead the people onto the ride. Daria jumped as the ride let out an exhausted moan and the motor began to whir as the ride started to spin. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted more of her ex-classmates goofing off behind the ride in a deserted area on the outskirts of the park. Kevin Thompson and a few of his teammates were huddled in a tight circle, obviously up to no good.

A small cheer sounded out as a bright light flashed and Kevin held up a _Roman Candle_ in one hand and another unlit firework in the other. The candle immediately began to shoot out bursts of white light into the air. The boys cried out in joy and cheered as they watched Kevin flap his arms and send the lights across the sky.

Daria groaned as she watched the unlit firework cross the path of the lit one and the wick catch fire.

The joyous cries turned into ones of warning as the boys began to run away. Kevin threw both the fire works on the ground and followed suit, taking cover behind the tree line.

A high pitched squeal rang out as the firework was propelled across the field. It landed in Jamie's Tilt-O-Whirl booth and was caught in his safety harness.

Blood curdling screams rose above the ride's music and mechanical noises as the firework exploded, sending shimmering colors of blue and white up into the sky. Combined with the shower of dull red from Jamie that accompanied it, Daria thought the display was very patriotic.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Daria glanced at her watch, the time buffer she had allowed herself between her reap and Georgia's was diminishing fast. She did a quick calculation and surmised that even if she ran to the meeting place, she'd only just make it on time. The drawback however, was a complication she hadn't considered; the time waiting for Jane to be freed from the ride.

It was an agonizingly slow process, the ride's conductor had freaked out and had hit the emergency brake, causing the motor to burnout and one of the turning mechanisms to fail. The fire brigade had to be called in to release the trapped passengers one by one, and Jane had been one of the last to exit.

Daria glanced at the growing crowd of onlookers and tapped her foot impatiently. She didn't see Jane approaching her from behind.

"YOU!!!" Jane growled.

Daria spun around and observed her best friend. She seemed to have been far enough away from the blast zone to come out of the ordeal unscathed; however a faint mist of blood covered one side of her face.

"You did this!" Jane pointed at Daria as she shouted the accusation.

"What…What are you talking about, how could I have had a hand in this?" Daria replied in an unsteady voice.

"Don't play coy, you caused Jamal's death."

"Jamie," Daria corrected, before wincing; there was no way Morgan should have known Jamie's name, fortunately Jane seemed to have missed the slip as she continued.

"Whatever. You made this happen, just like you caused Artie's death this morning and I'm guessing Sandi's the other week."

"I… I don't know what you're talking about Jane. Are you sure you weren't hit with any shrapnel?" Daria replied, she thought the best way to handle this was to act dumb and deny everything.

"No, I'm fine. I'm not making this up. Death seems to follow you around like a lost puppy. It's happened one too many time for it to be considered a coincidence," Jane replied, unaware of the attention they were receiving from the crowd.

Daria pulled Jane aside and led her to the back of the ride, away from the on lookers. "Look Jane, I think you might be looking a little too far into all of this. How could I have possibly caused that accident? I wasn't on the ride, nor did I have any fireworks. I think it may be a good idea if you go and meet Trent at the Zen and ask him to drive you home. I'll give you a call in the morning and we can discuss it then, once you've calmed down and thought about what you're saying." Daria reasoned as she led Jane to the entrance of the park and guided her in the direction of Dega Street.

Daria breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Jane cross the road. Daria checked her watch once more, there was no doubt about it, she would need a miracle to make it to the meeting place on time.

***

Quinn stared out of the small window of Jake's new apartment and let out a frustrated sigh as she tried to block out her parents arguing. It was seven thirty, Helen had arrived five minutes before and it had taken a full minute before she and Jake had begun their petty squabbles.

"I still have thirty minutes left with her!" Jake said.

"Thirty minutes to do what? Let Quinn watch you get drunk?" Helen said as she drew her arms protectively across her chest.

"I haven't been drinking," Jake spat back, though a slight slur could be detected in his voice.

"Pul-lease Jake, I can smell the whiskey on your breath." Helen rolled her eyes. "I don't want to think of the state you'd be in if I had gotten here at eight. Is this how I can expect to find you each time I pick Quinn up?"

"No. Maybe I had a drink, so shoot me. I have had a long, hard day and I deserve it."

"The only thing you deserve is having your visitation rights pulled," Helen spat back. "Quinn honey?" she called, her voice audibly softer, "It's time to go, you'll have to get changed into something nice for dinner."

"But I thought you said I had until eight with dad. Why do I have to go now?" Quinn asked as she turned to face them.

"I didn't say anything earlier, but the dinner is with some potential new bosses. I have been offered a transfer to Boston. The headmaster at the prestigious girl's school, St Augustine's will also be there. I'd like Quinn to come so she can meet them and have an input into the decision of me taking the job."

"Wait, we're going to move? We can't do that I…" Quinn started but stopped mid sentence._ 'What exactly is keeping me tied to Lawndale, besides Dad? There isn't really anything left for me. My circle of friends have neglected me, leaving only Jane, who will probably be moving on anyway.'_

"Only if you want to, that's why I want you to come with me tonight, so you can meet everyone and make up your own mind. You're old enough to make your own decisions."

"And if I want to stay?" she asked timidly.

Helen gave Jake a disapproving look. "We'll talk about that later."

"Don't I have a say in this?" Jake asked.

"You gave up your right to have a say in my life the day you announced that you wanted to divorce me," Helen said.

Before Jake had a chance to respond the door bell rang out through the small apartment.

"I'll get it." Quinn said as she almost ran to the door.

She was glad of any distraction from the bickering. Quinn opened the door a stood face to face with a short blond.

"Georgia? What are you doing here?"

***

Jane stuck to the shadows as she ran through the darkened streets of Lawndale, careful not to lose sight of the short auburn haired girl she had decided to follow. She was thankful that Morgan's heavy footsteps provided enough noise to cover her own. Once or twice she had had to take cover in the shrubbery that lined the footpath when Morgan had stopped to gain her breath and surveyed her surroundings.

The ride had been the last straw. Jane had had enough, and the time had come to confront Morgan about why people had a tendency to die when she was around. As Jane ran, she realized she knew very little about Morgan, it was as if she had appeared out of nowhere at the start of the summer. The more she thought about it the less things seemed to add up. She still had no hard evidence to confront Morgan with, except the video tape, but she didn't care any more. She needed answers.

Jane watched Morgan turn around the next corner and change pace to a slow trot. Jane followed suit as she saw the slow retreat of an ambulance as it cruised down the street; that meant one of two things, either the call out was a false alarm or there was nothing the paramedics could do for the patient.

Jane picked a thick hedge to hide in as she watched.

~~~

Daria approached Georgia and slowed to a walk, dogging the police car the cruised out of the apartment block's parking lot and onto the street.

"You're late." Georgia said as she turned to face Daria.

She checked her watch, Georgia was right, she was almost twenty-five minutes late. "So?" she shrugged. "The next reap isn't for another twenty minutes across the road." Daria replied.

"That's not why I wanted you to meet me here," Georgia said mournfully.

"Then why-" Daria was cut off by the blinding lights of a large car exiting the parking lot. Both girls jumped out of the way and watched as it passed. Daria's heart leapt into her throat as she recognized the car was her mother's red SUV. Her sister was in the front passenger seat, eyes bloodshot and the surrounding skin burnt by tears. The car turned onto the street and drove away before Daria had time to check the driver's seat. She turned back to Georgia. "Who was it?" she asked, her voice distorted with sorrow.

"Come on," Georgia said softly as she attempted to lead Daria away.

"Tell me!!!" Daria yelled as she pulled her arm from Georgia's grip and stood defiantly on the spot.

Georgia sighed, "I tried to get you here so you could say goodbye."

"Dammit George tell me who the fuck was in that ambulance!" Daria's voice cracked as she stifled a sob.

"It was your dad. He… he had had a bit to drink and when your mom came to pick Quinn up and they had a fight. When they left your dad drained the rest of the whiskey and threw the empty bottle at the door. When he was picking up the shards of glass he cut himself and went into the bathroom to clean the wound. He said the floor must have been wet because he slipped and fell through the glass shower screen. He cut his femoral and radial arteries and bled out within minutes, there was nothing anyone could do."

Daria felt the hot sting of tears invade her eyes as she listened to Georgia. "Who…Who found him?"

"Your mom. She and Quinn had argued out by the car before leaving and she heard the crash," Georgia said as she watched Daria who had become silent as she tried to ease her breathing. "Are you okay?"

Daria scoffed, her sadness quickly turned to anger. "Of course I'm not okay! Why didn't you say anything? You should have warned me!"

Georgia smiled sadly and spoke in a low, quiet voice. "I know. I'm sorry I-"

Georgia was cut off by a loud slap, as Daria's palm connected with her face. The two girls stood eying each other. A rustle of leaves to their left drew their attention to Jane who had come out of her hiding place, ready to break up their fight.

"Jane?" Daria asked in disbelief.

Georgia turned to Daria. "What the hell is she doing here? You said you were going to get rid of her before you came!"

"I…I…" Daria stuttered before she ran up the road and into the entrance of the park.

Georgia watched as Jane ran after her. "Shit!" she said as she checked her watch, there was five minutes to go before their last reap. With a groan she followed the two girls into the park.

***

As Daria ran she checked her watch and pulled out the details of her reap. Three minutes to go. So far she hadn't seen anyone. A loud gunshot from the opposite side of the park echoed into the night and Daria ran toward it with renewed hope.

Jane slowed and kept her distance as Morgan stopped under a lamppost to catch her breath. Jane's nerves were on red alert, her instincts told her to flee; run away as fast as she could. But she couldn't it, she found herself compelled to stay and follow, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, _'You knew something bad was going to happen, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't look away.'_

A high pitched woman's scream caused Jane to jump, and she watched Morgan once again run toward the ensuing chaos.

Daria stopped in the middle of the walkway as she heard the thump thump thump of approaching footsteps and watched as a large man carrying a hot-pink handbag in one hand and a large machete in the other ran toward her. Moments later, Roxy, garbed in her police uniform, appeared behind him.

"Freeze, asshole!" she shouted as she stopped and lined up her shot.

The man ran behind Daria and roughly took her to use as a human shield, the machete quivered at her throat as the man caught his breath. "Hey!" Daria called as she pulled at his arm; the familiar wisp of blue smoke radiated from it as she took his soul.

"If you shoot me, you're going to kill this little lady too," he yelled back at Roxy while he stroked the sharp blade down her neck. Roxy laughed in response and released the safety.

Jane watched wide eyed and shook her head in disbelief. She tried to call out, but her voice caught in her throat.

"Roxy, no!" Daria warned.

"Sorry Daria," Roxy called.

Jane's brow furrowed. "Daria? What the hell?" she said quietly as the gun went off.

Daria braced herself, as the bullet connected with her shoulder. It blasted straight through her body and into the man's chest cavity.

Almost immediately, Daria was overcome with the searing hot ache, as her body registered the hit. "Aw shit!" she screamed as she doubled over in pain, her free arm holding her shoulder.

"Holy Shit!!!" Jane screamed in horror as she stood frozen to the spot, shaking her head in disbelief.

Roxy tuned to Jane and groaned, "Shit!" she cursed as she began to walk toward Jane.

Before Jane had the opportunity to flee, everything went black.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Jane gave a groggy groan as she came to. Her head throbbed and as she tried to open her eyes, she found herself blinded by the bright light from the… where was she?

Jane rubbed her eyes to clear her vision and observed her surroundings. She was lying on a wrought iron four-poster bed in an unfamiliar bedroom. Paisley pink wall paper adorned all four walls, from the high yellowed ceiling to the dark hardwood floors. The light came from the two lamps on the bedside tables.

_'What the hell happened? The last thing I remember was…'_ A vision of the police woman coming toward her flashed through her mind, the one that had called Morgan… Daria?

Jane ignored the pain as she got up off the bed and made her way to the door. She twisted the handle, it was locked. She quickly crossed the room and checked the windows, they too were locked and to add insult to injury, they had been encased in thick prison-like bars. She was trapped.

She could feel the panic begin to set in as she evaluated her situation. She had been knocked out, kidnapped and was now being held prisoner in a room that looked like Barbie and Hello Kitty had mated and the bastard offspring result was this décor.

She surveyed the rest of the room; most of the trinkets fitted the theme of the room, except a small collection of items on the old writing desk. She walked over to the desk and picked up the replica human skull and let her fingers trace over the natural crevices of the face. As Jane set it down she bumped the mouse connected to the open laptop, the action brought the screen back to life and an open word processor program became visible.

_Melody's faced hardened as she observed the lifeless form in front of her; she kicked out at his feet eliciting a small groan._

"Thank God," she sighed. "He's only worth half the ransom if he's dead."

She bent down and rummaged through the man's pockets and withdrew his cell phone. She hit redial and held it to the man's ear. "You tell them you completed your mission; I'm dead, that's all. If you so much as utter one word to make them think otherwise, I'll blow your fucking brains all over this dirty floor and leave your carcass to be picked apart by vermin. Do I make myself clear?" She hissed as she pushed the muzzle of her gun into the soft skin of his temple.

The man's eyes glistened with fear as he nodded. Melody smirked; there was no way he was going to risk his life any more than he already had. "You're pathetic." Melody sneered.

Jane's brow furrowed as she re-read the last passage. Daria's story had been copied, word for word, bar the last paragraph. There was no way…

Jane felt a cold shiver run up her spine as her eyes came to rest on the final object on the desk. A pair of thick black framed 'Manstopper' eye glasses. As she picked them up, the first signs that showed she wasn't alone in the house sounded out from the opposite side of the door.

"What else was I supposed to do?" a muffled feminine voice asked. "She was passed out cold in the middle of the park, no thanks to Mason. I couldn't just leave her there."

"You shouldn't have brought her here. What's Rube going to say?" another voice responded.

"I don't give a shit what he says- you're the one that let the cat out of the bag by saying my name," the first voice said.

"She shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"Whatever, I have to go check on her," the first voice said finally before the locking mechanism in the door clicked and Morgan entered the bedroom.

Jane pressed herself against the far wall of the bedroom; keen to put as much distance between Morgan and herself as possible.

"You… It was you. The day of Daria's funeral, on the front lawn. How… How did you know about the money under Daria's bed?" Jane said slowly as she held up the glasses.

Daria shrugged and locked the door.

"Who are you? How did you get Daria's things? How did you get Daria's story?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Daria calmly said as she sat on the bed.

"Oh I think I would. The fact that you know things about me that I've never told you. You have Daria's unfinished story word-for-word on your computer. You have a tendency to show up just before someone dies and _know_ it's going to happen. I have proof; Trent taped the news broadcast from the day of Sandi's death. Everyone was running around in various states of frenzied shock. _Everyone_, except you. You were calm, cool as a cucumber. To top it off, I saw you get shot tonight and you don't have a scratch on you. _Shot,_ Morgan. The bullet went straight through your shoulder. I know I didn't imagine that and it should have killed you. You could tell me you're superhuman, that you can predict people's deaths or you have mutant healing powers. After tonight I'm willing to believe any scenario."

"What if I told you, you were closer to the truth than you thought?" Daria replied.

"What? You're _really_ some telepathic superhuman mutant?" Jane scoffed.

"Kind of. If I tell you, you have to swear you won't breathe a word to anyone else," Daria said solemnly.

Jane's brow furrowed as she stepped forward, walked toward the bed and sat opposite Daria.

Daria inhaled deeply. "I'm a Grim Reaper," she said and turned to Jane. "I take peoples souls just before they die."

Jane looked at Daria. "A Grim Reaper? Like death; scythe and black cloak?" Jane laughed nervously. "Yeah, right."

"Think about it. All the deaths, you said it yourself that it was more than a coincidence. Add to that the fact that I was shot less than an hour ago and now…" Daria said and showed Jane her unblemished shoulder. "You can't kill what's already dead."

Jane fell silent as she took in the information, it did make sense but it was pretty unbelievable. "How?" she asked quietly.

"Huh?"

"How do you know so much about…?" Jane trailed off.

"Daria?" she offered.

Jane nodded and held up the glasses. "You knew things that no one but she should know. Did you take her soul, is that how you knew about the Montana cabin fund and how you got her things?" she asked as a small tear trickled down her cheek and she glanced up at Daria, who shook her head in response. "Then…How?" Jane asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that," Daria responded.

"The reason you know so much about Daria is because…" Jane turned to Daria and the two girls stared into each other's eyes. "It's because you _are_…" A fat tear rolled over the apple of Jane's cheek. "Daria?"

Daria gave a trademark Mona Lisa smile and nodded. The two girls embraced each other, both girls wrapping their arms tightly around the other.

Jane pulled back and her eyes grew wide, "How? "She asked.

Daria took a deep breath and began her story. As she spoke she felt like a giant weight had been lifted from her chest, being able to confide in Jane about the highs and lows of her new life, from her first reap at the Payday warehouse and having to take Tom's soul to the inability to consol her sister after learning about her parents' divorce. For the first time since her death, Daria felt at peace.  
_  
_  
_'I never asked to die, let's be honest here, I was eighteen years old. When I thought of death I envisioned old people with wrinkly skin and grey hair, lying on their death beds. People that have lived their lives, had the chance to accomplish and live out their dreams. So when death found me that May morning, I'd be lying if I said I was expecting it or that I was ready to die. No, I wasn't ready, I had things I wanted to accomplish; I had my own dreams that I wanted to live out._

A month has passed since the night I had revealed my true identity to Jane and my life hasn't changed much. I still wake up every morning with the knowledge that I am going to have to see at least one person die that day, the difference now is that I have someone I can go to, to talk mindless crap with and eat greasy pizza with afterwards. __

The down point of the last few weeks was when I found out my mother had taken a job in Boston and she and Quinn were relocating there. At least this time I got to say a proper goodbye, and Quinn gave both Jane and I an open invitation to visit her any time, although I have a snowflake's chance in hell of taking a sick day.

Every now and then I find myself taking detours through the neighbourhood, just to catch a glimpse of the old house. I hold on to the naive hope that maybe, just maybe, this really was a dream and things were back to normal. But that never happens. That's life, I suppose; people die, things change; you deal with it and move on. Well not me, I'm stuck here for God knows how long. I'm just glad I have people in my life to get me through it all.

As I stood once again out side of the old Morgendorffer residence, I realized maybe life isn't so bad, being dead like me.'

**THE END!!!!**


End file.
